Blood of the Lamb
by adoranymph
Summary: Lambs, by nature, were sweet and gentle creatures. But for a lamb for slaughter, love could be nothing but a curse, an innocence waiting to be betrayed, finding strength only in learning to grow fangs of hate. This is the story of how Ilyasviel learned of love, then hate, and then love again. Sequel to Love Sprung from Winter, following Ilya's role in HF of F/SN.
1. The Waiting Lamb

**Chapter One**

 **The Waiting Lamb**

 _Though Ilyasviel von Einzbern was small, she was never short on determination to match pace with her tall father through the thick snow that covered the mountain, forest, and the castle she had been born in. As she did so now, she was pleased with her efforts, and more so to look up at her father with glowing adoration and happiness, this man who was as dark as her mother was white, save for the paleness of his skin._

 _"Does Kiritsugu like the snow?" she asked him then—she would often call her father by his given name, because her mother did, and her mother was always happy when she said it, and Ilya was always happy with her father._

 _Kiritsugu looked at her with the smile he always gave special to her, that warm, loving smile that told Ilya without words that he would always love and protect her. "Why the interest, Ilya?"_

 _Ilya shrugged. "Ilya just wants to know."_

 _Kiritsugu became thoughtful, and then he laughed and said, "You know, that's actually a really hard question for Daddy to answer."_

 _Ilya huffed. "What? How can that be a hard question? It's either 'yes' or 'no'!"_

 _"Yes, but you see, the answer used to be 'no', but Daddy might have changed his mind," said Kiritsugu._

 _Ilya's red eyes grew bigger. "Kiritsugu changed his mind?"_

 _"Yes. You see, when Daddy first came to live here, he was used to living in warm or hot places, mostly. But then he realized that the snow was a lot like Ilya's and Mommy's hair, and now he thinks he could learn to love it."_

 _"Because it's like Mommy's and Ilya's hair?"_

 _"Mm-hm. Because Daddy loves Ilya and Mommy very much."_

 _The soft light in Kiritsugu's otherwise dark eyes when he said this was more than proof enough for Ilya that what he told her was sincere from the bottom of his heart. Of course, it was already one of the certainties of life for Ilya that her father loved her and her mother dearly. But she was still very happy whenever Kiritsugu assured her of it. And she adored him dearly back for it, hoping that she could always make him as happy as he had always worked to make her and her mother._

 _Kiritsugu chuckled, and then, with that playful look in his eye, he suddenly reached down and scooped Ilya up into his arms._

 _"Kiritsugu, wait, I can walk—!" But Ilya was giggling. After all, she loved it when her father scooped her up like this, quite as much as she loved it when he would perch her on his shoulders and let her ride up high, as he was doing for her now._

 _Kiritsugu laughed harder, and Ilya loved the sound all the more. Indeed, there were moments when she thought he might be smiling at her through some kind of tender sadness, but even so, when he laughed like this, he was infectiously happy, such that Ilya giggled even harder and called out, "Off we go, horsey!"_

 _Ilya's father, Kiritsugu Emiya, was Japanese. Her beautiful mother, Irisviel von Einzbern, was German. Her father was human. Her mother was a homunculus._

 _Such things were utterly unimportant to Ilya. To her, her parents were the two people in the world who gave her what was called "love", and it was a precious thing to her. She didn't remember when she realized it, she just knew that she would always feel that way for as long as she lived, that she would always dearly love her father and mother back. Even if there were days where she would sigh over a book that her mother or father would be reading to her or that she would be reading for herself about things like "friends" and "other children", in the end when she looked between her mother and father, she was nothing but purely happy and full of love for them both._

 _Equally precious to her too was how much she could see her mother and father loved each other. She had been told that her parents had fallen in love over something that was rather like out of a fairy tale: her mother had been lost in the snow, hunted by wolves and almost frozen to death, because Grandfather Jubstacheit had been angry with her, and Kiritsugu had rescued her. And certainly now, whenever Ilya noticed them when they didn't realize she was watching, or didn't mind that she was, her father and mother would look at each other with great happiness to be with the other, speaking in low voices, while Kiritsugu might stroke back Irisviel's hair, and Irisviel would run her thumb over the back of his hand while she held it._

 _Maybe it wasn't normal for kids to be so utterly fascinated by the love shared between their parents, but Ilya wasn't exactly normal, and anyway, she didn't really care. In fact, she shared in her father's sadness that became clear to her the day he left the castle for his big trip to Japan, because her mother would have to go too, but instead of coming back, would have to part from both Ilya and Kiritsugu forever._

 _Just so, there was hope. Her father would be coming back soon, he'd promised her he would, and Kiritsugu had never broken a promise to her yet. That kept her smiling in the week that followed, even when she woke from that terrible nightmare about her father surrounded by a field of fire and suffering, while seven gigantic lumps came into her body, threatening to tear her apart from the inside as a big black hole opened up above her head and her father wept, crying out her and her mother's names with such raw sorrow it broke Ilya's heart to hear it, for afterward she had heard her mother's voice again, as if she were with her in spirit, as she said she would always be able to find her even if she couldn't see her anymore..._

 _...all because of the miracle of her mother becoming the all-powerful Holy Grail..._

"Mmmm...Mama...Kiritsugu..." Ilya murmured, fighting to wake up as a voice went on calling her name.

But not the one she wanted to hear.

"Elke...stop," she moaned, as she next felt the digging prods of a blunt instrument repeatedly in her shoulder. When it became simply too much to bear though, she was forced to give in and roll over onto her back, curled up as she was, not in her own bed, but in her parents' bed, hugging one of the pillows to her as even after over a week, it still smelled of them. The book of fairy tales that her father had given to her mother as a gift, and out of which her mother would read to Ilya on many an evening, was abandoned and left open to the last page she'd been reading before nodding off.

Ilya glared up at Elke, a full homunculus, like Ilya's mother, Irisviel, but not "worthy of the honor of becoming the Vessel of the Holy Grail", so she became one of the homunculus maids instead.

Elke, unlike Irisviel, never expressed anything like emotion, which had become something of a pet peeve of Ilya's. She gave Ilya her usual look of impassivity as she said, "There we are. It's time for your bath, Miss Ilyasviel."

Ilya gave a wordless grumble and turned away, snuggling deeper into all her parents' pillows. For as long as she could remember, she had always taken baths with her mother.

But now….

"Come along, Miss Ilyasviel," Elke insisted, raising the broom she'd been using before, threatening to prod her with it again.

 _"_ _Come along, Ilya! Shall we have a nice, hot bath, just you and me?" her mother invited as usual, beaming happily at her daughter, taking both hands in hers and squeezing them._

"You're not my mama," Ilya growled. "You _look_ like her, but that's all. You aren't her. So stop trying to be." She flicked a glare Elke's way again.

Elke was unmoved. "You are under my personal care at present, Miss Ilyasviel."

Ilya huffed, sitting up in bed at last and trying to give Elke the death stare to end all death stares. "Ilya doesn't like the baths Elke gives her," she declared. "She makes the water too hot. Where's Mieke?"

"Mieke is busy with other tasks, as is Nele."

Ilya threw one of the pillows at Elke and hit her square in the face. Elke shut her eyes at the impact, but otherwise didn't flinch a muscle, completely unaffected while the pillow fell lamely to the floor.

It had been three days since Elke had returned from Japan with Mieke and Nele, bearing news that Kiritsugu had stayed behind to take care of a few things before making his return to Einzbern Castle. Such news coming from Elke made Ilya like her even less, if that was possible.

But her father had promised he would return. If he said he would be a little longer, Ilya could wait, for she knew that the wait would be over soon enough. Then she wouldn't have to deal with Elke, because Kiritsugu said he was going to take her away from here. Take her away from here and go back to Japan, where he would show her the "starbugs" (actually fireflies, but Ilya liked calling them "starbugs" since they looked like stars against the dark backdrops of night in the photos she had seen).

For a moment, she crushed the corner of another pillow in her small fist, but then relaxed when she thought of her father coming soon, any day now. So she slid off the bed, however reluctantly.

"Just you wait until Kiritsugu gets back," she grumbled as she stomped to the bathroom. "Then Elke can't boss Ilya around."

Elke followed her, her expression blank as ever. "Of course, Miss Ilyasviel."

As predicted, the water was too hot again. But at least Ilya could shut Elke out and be by herself while she took her bath. And though it was lonely without her mother taking it with her like usual, Ilya was still very good about doing everything her mother taught her on her own, including making sure to wash behind her ears. She had to be a good little girl, for both her mother and her father, despite her melancholy at their both being gone from her for the first time in her life like this making her less than keen to, since that just made her more annoyed with people like Elke.

She wanted to make her mother and her father both proud of her.

After Ilya had washed despite the uncomfortably hot water, she drew her knees up to her chest and soaked in the water a little bit longer, thinking of her mother and father. She began counting again, her mind growing increasingly more fixated on calculating how long precisely it should take Kiritsugu to come back from whatever work he had to finish before coming back.

"Elke and Mieke and Nele came back three days ago, and that was just a little over a week since Daddy left, so if he gets done today...Mommy said the plane to get to Japan takes about thirteen hours? And if something got him stuck at...what was that thing? Right, the 'airport'...and if there are…twenty-four hours in a day…hmmmm..."

Eventually she got tired of going over numbers in her head, over and over. She huffed, a little drained, and leaned her head back against the porcelain edge of the tub. And she remembered that she too had a promise to keep to her father, that she would be strong and last until he came home, even if she got lonely. Truth be told, she hadn't known what it meant to feel lonely until now, and now that she was feeling it, she knew she never wanted to feel it again: it was like a darkness that settled inside the heart, and consumed it slowly from within.

Even so, her eyes started to sting with tears. Resolved to hold back, she sucked in a sudden, large gulp of air, and, pinching her nose between her thumb and forefinger, submerged underneath the hot, hot water. Locked underneath it, everything felt just a little bit easier to bear, like she'd sealed herself away into a separate dimension of tranquility.

She carried this feeling with her after she reemerged from the bath and let Elke dry her off, harsh and impersonal as she was about it with the towel. And it stayed with her as the hours of the end of the day followed with her being presented before Elder Acht, as she was every evening. Ilya wasn't sure if he felt like he had to because her parents were gone, or if it had something to do with that greedy look he would get in his otherwise cold, flat, squinted eyes, but it was times like these she needed feelings like the calm she had now, the reassurance that her father was coming for her, like the knight who comes for the princess imprisoned in the evil tower.

"I suppose you would care to know of any news of your...father?" Elder Acht asked her as usual as he observed her once more from where he stood at the altar in the Summoning Chamber, going over the words of a very old book, this place where Kiritsugu and Irisviel had summoned the woman in blue, the Saber-Class Servant for what was called the Holy Grail War.

Ilya swallowed, telling herself to be brave, while at the same time her tiny heart began to pound for that heavy few seconds with both fear and excitement at what Acht would say next.

Unable to speak, she swallowed hard and gave a meek little nod.

Acht surveyed her icily, narrowing his eyes even more, before he turned unconcernedly back to going over the book. "There is still no word of him, child. But we shall be patient and wait another day."

Though Ilya let out the breath she'd been holding, she couldn't help the spark of something following that. Something that made her prickly and impatient.

Though Elder Acht often frightened her, in the past week or so, she had had to learn to cohabitate with him in this castle, even with it being so vast. And even with Acht only seeing her maybe once a day for a few minutes, if that. That being the case, she had done her best thus far to emulate her mother's manner in dealing with him, acting as elegant as a proper lady, but not without being...firm? Was that the word? Not without being firm where her own opinions were concerned.

She cleared her throat.

Acht raised his eyebrows at her, looking just a little irked that she was still here after he'd clearly dismissed her for the evening.

"Grandfather," she began, "you don't like Kiritsugu...do you?"

Acht raised his eyebrows at her, but not as though he were affronted or anything. Just curious she would ask such a thing, and mildly so. Then he turned back to the book and said with equal indifference: "That is irrelevant, child."

Ilya twisted her fingers faster, gulped, puffing out her chest before finally asking: "But...you wouldn't...keep him away from me, would you?"

"Of course not," said Acht at once, not looking up from the book as he got that pinched expression again.

But Ilya didn't care this time. She felt suddenly much lighter. After all, Grandfather Acht might have been scary, but he had never lied to her. She had no reason to believe he ever would.

In this moment, all of Ilya's certainty that her father was going to return home soon was strengthened such that she actually felt her stomach attempt a flip of giddiness. Giving Elder Acht a hasty, customary curtsy before taking her leave, she flounced up to her own room, crowded with all of her many toys and books. All of them were gifts from Kiritsugu, since he was able to access the world beyond the castle and buy such treasures. But it wasn't the treasures themselves that made them treasures, it was that Kiritsugu had given them to her, while he'd smiled at her with that smile that was special just for her, that smile that hoped that the gift he was presenting her with would make her happy.

 _That_ was what made them all precious to her. So if she had to choose between any one of these stuffed bears or stuffed cats, or beautifully crafted books or wind-ups or music boxes (no dolls, Ilya had always insisted), and her father, she would always pick her father, just as he was to her.

Ilya sat on the floor, surrounding herself with these treasures, picking up each plushy and hugging it close, like a prayer for Kiritsugu's safe return. She got to her special toy lamb Klara last—special because Klara was the first plush toy Kiritsugu had bought her. The lamb was showing her age even now, how many times her mother had carefully worked to patch her up with needle and thread. Ilya squeezed her extra tight nonetheless.

"See how patient Ilya is, how brave?" Ilya whispered in that lamb's ear, the ear her parents would always laughingly tell her she used to chew as an infant. "Ilya will keep going, until you come home…Daddy…."

Kiritsugu had never broken a promise to her. Ilya had been under the watch of him and her mother her entire life, loving and caring for her, and doing everything he could to make her happy beyond buying her toys. He gave her his time, even when he looked sad or tired. Ilya couldn't remember when she started to pick up on that about her father, but she knew that eventually she had come to her own personal conclusion that as much as Kiritsugu wanted to love and protect her, Ilya wanted to do the same for him. In that way, she felt she could be even stronger, someone who could face her fearsome grandfather without trembling in the knees. That and Kiritsugu had always told her that he believed in her strength, because she was her mother's daughter.

How could Ilya not look between her mother and her father with just a little sense of awe? After all, as her mother had explained to her, gently and softly while stroking her hair reassuringly:

 _"_ _There will come a time when Mama will have to go away, for a very long time. She will become what is called the Holy Grail, and Daddy will protect her until she does. Then she and Daddy will be able to save the world from sadness. After that, even if Ilya doesn't see Mama for a very long time, she'll always be by her side."_

Ilya felt a warm glow within her as she sank back into these memories while hugging Klara close, burying her face in the lamb's woolliness, not caring a bit that she hadn't entirely understood all that her mother had told her. But though this glow was happy, it was a sad kind of happy. She really couldn't explain it.

Even so, she refused to cry. She had no reason to, because her mama _was_ still with her. She had heard her voice so clearly, in the aftermath of that horrible nightmare about the fire and the black hole and the seven gigantic lumps tearing her apart from within while her father cried...

 _"…_ _It's okay…Daddy's doing the best he can for you. He'll make certain that our prayers are realized, so you'll never have to be scared again, Ilyasviel…."_

A knock on her bedroom door jarred Ilya out of her meandering rumination, and Elke poked her head in to tell her that it was time for bed.

Elke, being Elke, tucked her into the bed in her own room, and Ilya, being Ilya, waited until the homunculus maid had left before sneaking out of her room and tucking herself into her parents' bed with Klara clutched in her arms, even with the room's fireplace unlit.

She cocooned herself in the covers, wrapping herself up once more in the comfort of the place she would run to in the middle of the night after so many nightmares, especially the ones about Lord Justeaze, about whom her mother would never speak, but Elke would without hesitation, telling Ilya simply, "She is the mother of us all, child."

But, as had been happening of late, Ilya was restless and fitful again in trying to get to sleep. Her heart kept beating too fast as she imagined, in an effort to ease her impatience, that the pillows she was hugging were her mother and father instead, and that they had their warm arms around her again, for this only served to be more aware of how keenly and sharply she missed them. She came close to tears again as she thought of their soft voices close to her ear, her father weaving a story for her that took her away from the gloom of Einzbern Castle, while her mother hummed a sweet lullaby. Again, with an effort, she willed her tears back, falling at last into an exhausted slumber.

There she found herself trudging through open snow, bundled up in her purple coat and fur hat that was like her mother's white coat and hat. She seemed to have lost her way from the castle, and was starting to worry she wouldn't find it before dark.

But then a voice called out to her:

"Ilya!"

Ilya turned around...and there he was...in his long black coat and wearing the smile he always gave her special.

Everything inside Ilya swelled with great happiness, glowing so brightly she could swear to lighting up like a lamp. With a great burst of joy, she broke into a run, going as fast her little legs could carry her through the thick snow.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

She fell into his waiting arms, laughing and catching her breath. She gulped what air she could and looked up at him, beaming at how he was just as he was before he left, as she had always known him.

"Welcome home, Daddy!" she greeted euphorically.

"Ah yes, thank you, Ilya. I'm sorry I took so long, but I'm here now." Kiritsugu affectionately touched her cheek. "My Ilya."

Ilya in turn reached up and touched his face with both her tiny hands. "Daddy. I knew you'd come back. See how patient and strong Ilya was?"

Kiritsugu's smile turned just a little sad, but even so, it was clear he was happy. And then he pulled Ilya into his arms, hugging her close.

Ilya felt even warmer, wrapped up against her father, surrounded by that leather smell of him. As she burrowed into his coat so full of his smell, she felt even brighter with happiness. Though she knew the two of them were both sharing in sadness over the loss of her mother, the two of them had found each other again, and for Ilya, she could feel what a powerful and precious shield her father's love was for her, and that it made this grief easier to bear for both of them.

"Now we'll never part again, will we Daddy?" she asked her father, her voice muffled.

Kiritsugu hugged her tighter, petting back her silver hair that was just like her mother's. "Daddy will always be with you, no matter what happens now, Ilya." He heaved a great sigh, as though relieved.

"Is Daddy happy like Ilya is?"

"Yes. He's very happy. And we'll have nothing but happy and peaceful days from now on. Always…."

But when Ilya opened her eyes and lifted her head, she was alone again, wrapped up in the blankets and sheets on her parents' bed, her face once more buried in the pillows.

Even so, she couldn't help a bubbling inside of her. That moment in the dream she'd just had, that moment she'd been thinking of for what seemed like forever now, of being reunited with her father—it felt so close now, so close she could taste it.

Today was the day he would come home at last. She was sure of it.

"You are certainly a smiler today, Miss Ilyasviel," Elke observed flatly.

But not even Elke could ruin Ilya's mood this morning, as she stood at the window of her parents' bedroom, clutching Klara under her arm, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Of course I am. Kiritsugu's coming home today," Ilya announced without a doubt in her mind.

When Elke gave her a look that was actually disapproving, Ilya stuck her tongue out at her.

Which prompted Elke to shake her head and say, "I think it's time we got you dressed now, wouldn't you agree, Miss Ilyasviel?"

"Ugh, fine," said Ilya dismissively, content to endure it, for she felt in her very heart that this was the last time she would have to, so she was willing.

After Elke dressed her and then Nele fed her some breakfast, Ilya skipped off to go play with her toys in her own room, prattling a made-up song under her breath, one that made no sense but sprang purely from how happily anticipatory she was.

This was the last day she had to be patient! She could hardly stand it, but even so, she did her best to contain herself, and occupied herself with pulling out all of her plush toys for a mock picnic on her bedroom floor, imagining that she her father would very soon be having real picnics outside on a lovely day in the warm seasons of spring or summer, in that land they called Japan. And then they would have a treat of ice cream while watching the exploding, colored lights called fireworks, before playing a game of catching starbugs in their hands and then setting them free, watching their soft, beautiful lights in the dark….

Meanwhile, the day wore on, the frozen barrier around the castle actually kicking up into another frenzied storm.

 _I hope Kiritsugu will be able to see okay in this_ , Ilya thought, setting aside the rabbit she'd been pretending was talking to all of them and hopping over to the window—a trip she was making with increasing frequency in spite of her effort at self-control. Yet with the world turning whiter and whiter with how thick and fast the windy snow was falling, Ilya was finally forced to make the decision to approach Grandfather Acht of her own volition, to ask that he might, just this once, hold back the storm in spite of his mood today, so that her father wouldn't get lost while he tried to find his way back to the castle.

Just in case.

Yet when she arrived at her grandfather's study, the door to it opened before she even had a chance to knock, and there stood Elke, her red eyes as empty as ever, blinking and unmoved at the appearance of Ilya on the threshold.

"What is it, Elke?" Acht called indifferently from within.

"It is Miss Ilyasviel," Elke replied blankly.

"Ah, well then, that saves you the trouble of fetching her," said Acht. "Please, have her come in."

Bemused, but glad at least to have gained a requested audience with her grandfather, Ilya followed Elke into the study. Yet she couldn't help feeling the air get a little thicker when Elke shut the door behind them.

Acht, who stood at the window, surrounded as he was by his myriad of private books, with his hands clasped behind his back, turned to Ilya with his usual coldness. Yet he was being strangely more welcoming than usual.

"Hello, child," he greeted. "What brings you to my study?"

But Ilya found she wasn't to be distracted by the question. "Why were you going to fetch me, Grandfather?" And then her heart skipped a beat and she gasped. "Kiritsugu…he's back! He's back, isn't he?" She lurched forward, thinking perhaps he was still outside making his way to the front door, that Acht had just seen him arrive from his study window, and she wanted to have a look for herself, naturally.

Elke, however, held her back with a firm hand on her shoulder.

Ilya looked up at her, a little more confused, and then appealed to her grandfather, who was shaking his head with that pinched expression he always saved just for any mention of Kiritsugu it seemed.

"I am afraid not, child," he said. "In fact, that is the reason I was going to have Elke fetch you. I have just been informed that your father will not return here."

Ilya frowned. "What do you…mean? What's wrong? Has something…bad happened to him?"

"On the contrary, he has merely decided to betray us. And you."

"Be…tray…me…?"

"Some days ago, he abandoned your mother, leaving her in the hands of our enemies in the Grail War…and then he made an attempt to destroy the Holy Grail."

"Destroy the…Holy Grail?" Ilya shook her head, feeling like she had water in her ears. "No, that doesn't sound right. Daddy would never abandon Mama. Daddy loves Mama. He was going to protect her so she could become the Grail. Mama said Daddy needs the Grail. Why would he hurt Mama and destroy the Grail?"

"Because he is a liar and a coward." Acht's eyes flicked toward the window, his emerging glare matching its iciness. "He has chosen to turn against us, and…not to come back for you." He turned his glare on Ilya, as though it were all her fault this was happening.

None of this made any kind of sense to Ilya. Actually, this sounded like the kind of stupid lie—not even a lie but a _fib_ —that _she_ would've told to get out of trouble with her parents, like the time she tried to fib about breaking one of the Einzberns' priceless vases. Certainly, when she'd thrown her tantrums, Kiritsugu could be strict, and she'd learned quickly to toe the line with him unless she'd get really upset for whatever reason.

But her father had never been cruel to her. He had never hurt her in any way, never even had to raise a hand to her. This…thing…that Grandfather Acht was telling her about her father…couldn't possibly be true.

Although she had always been given to believe that neither her father nor Acht had ever had any reason to lie to her…Ilya knew then, in this moment, that if she had to choose a person to truly put her faith in…

…it would always be her father.

Which made her conviction in her next action all the stronger.

And for the first time in her life, Ilya felt something resolute grow within her, and she felt far braver than she ever had before.

Defiantly, she lifted her small chin, and fixing Acht's pale eyes with her bright red ones, her tiny fists clenching at her sides, she said, "You're lying. I don't believe you."

Acht narrowed his own eyes. "Then you are a fool. Quite as much as your mother was."

Ilya forgot to breathe, just for a second, as the sensation of something sharp running through her very heart overwhelmed her. Her eyes went wide, and her whole vision became as red as the irises of those eyes. Gritting her teeth and meeting Acht's glare with one of her own, she proclaimed, "No. Stop it. You're lying. Mama's not a fool. I won't believe you. You never liked Daddy. Now you're trying to tell me stupid lies about him."

"The sooner you come to grips with the truth of your father's betrayal, the better it will be for you." Acht tucked his hands into the enormous sleeves of his robes. "Your father has abandoned you and your mother both. He destroyed the Lesser Grail with his Saber-Class Servant. But having failed to destroy the Greater Grail, he has gone into hiding, full of cowardly shame, and now leaves you to follow your mother's fate."

"Stop it!" Ilya snapped, actually starting to crouch as though she were going to spring at her grandfather, something hot licking within her heart, something that filled her with a growing desperation to tear at the air around her.

Anger. True anger. Volatile, virulent anger.

And then Acht actually raised his voice. "Enough with this foolishness, Ilyasviel!"

"No!" Ilya shouted, waving her fists in the air and stamping her feet. "You stop lying to me and tell me the truth!"

"ENOUGH!"

"NO!"

Something blunt collided with the side of Ilya's face, along with a sharp pain that cracked through her jaw and sent stars exploding across her field of vision, even as everything went momentarily black.

Shocked, Ilya staggered back, clutching her cheek, blinking hugely and bewilderedly as she looked up at Elke, who had a hand raised, her eyes as blank as ever.

"Shall I again, Elder?" she asked.

"Only if she does not cease this behavior," said Acht, cold as ever.

And then Ilya understood. She'd been slapped. Elke had…slapped her. _Hurt_ her. No one had ever done such a thing to her.

As she realized this, a gaping hole opened up inside of her, and she thought desperately of her parents again, how happy they had always made her.

All gone…all gone….

"Mommy…Daddy…."

Her cheek still throbbed where Elke had struck her.

Ilya latched onto this, anger for what was happening her only defense left to her. That, and faith in her father that she swore would remain unshaken.

It could not be.

She would never believe her father would abandon her, that he would abandon her mother. She would never let people like Grandfather Acht and Elke take that faith away from her.

Slowly, she stood, glaring at master and homunculus, even as she knew her cheek was still bright red from Elke's smack.

"When Kiritsugu gets back, you'll be sorry," she growled. "You'll be sorry you ever hurt me. He'll make all of you pay."

But even as she said this, even as she turned and tore from the study without permission, the seed of something dark was sown within her and beginning to grow. And even with her continued faith in the man she loved and adored as her father, she was teetering on the edge of weeping for fear of what might come next, even as she had no way of truly knowing what pain was still in store for her, as her childhood would be stripped away from her forever.

For now, Ilya could still believe in the love her mother and father had taught her.


	2. Tears of the Lamb

**Chapter Two**

 **Tears of the Lamb**

The days wore emptily on after that, one after the next. Ilya had locked herself in her and her parents' rooms, refusing to come out no matter how much Elke beat on the door with that broom. But then she withdrew, it seemed at Grandfather Acht's behest, leaving Ilya alone with her whirling thoughts and desperate prayers.

She had been told that her father had decided to not come back for her after all, like he'd promised, that he was abandoning her, abandoning her so she would have to follow her mother's fate in becoming the Grail. Instead of claiming the Grail, he had tried to destroy it, and failed, abandoning her mother as well as her.

Why would he do all that? Ilya could not believe him of such things. She knew him differently. The only reason he wouldn't come back was because something was keeping him out, and she put that blame on her forbidding grandfather, naturally.

Still, that didn't mean that the days of waiting that followed didn't wear on her. Nor did it help that, after finally being readmitted at least to serve her meals to her, Elke would drop things like, "As I understand it, Kiritsugu Emiya was very skilled in breaking through things like barriers. Breaking through one like Grandfather Acht's should be no problem if he really wished to break through and return. Or so logic would say."

All in that emotionless, blank voice of hers.

Such things nibbled at the back of Ilya's worried mind. They burrowed into her heart, where they wouldn't let go, making her toss and turn when night came on in the wake of another colorless day where Kiritsugu had not returned.

Even so, she was determined not to give up, to stay strong, to endure the hours on end in which she would sit at the window, hugging Klara tight to her, touching the frosted window with her little finger, tracing the _kanji_ and _hiragna_ symbols her father had taught her from Japan, whispering, "Daddy…Daddy…please come home soon…" all like she were casting magic charms to summon him home.

One day she was tracing like this, the _kanji_ for "father" over and over again, and Elke, working along the wall and washing the windows in all the bedrooms, picked her up without hesitation and proceeded to wash away what Ilya had traced on the glass with soap and water.

"Hey! Stop that!" Ilya snapped at her, curling her tiny hands into fists.

Elke turned and blinked at her. "Miss, what is the meaning of this behavior? It's unseemly for a lady of the Einzbern."

But Ilya felt that anger rise up like bile, churning in her stomach, unable to express it in anything more coherent than a yell and smack after smack at Elke's hands to stop her from wiping away the words she had written. She felt strangely like if Elke did that, somehow it would stop her father from being able to come back, completely caught up in the idea that tracing these patterns would act as powerful spells to return him to her.

Elke however unapologetically took Ilya by the ear and pulled hard, boxing it. It hurt so much that Ilya was rather easily subdued. However, this only served to increase her anger, and though it hurt even more to do it, she tried to pull away regardless, even with Elke pinching her ear as she was.

"Miss Ilyasviel, this is no way for the new Vessel of the Grail to act."

"But I'm _not_ the Vessel!" Ilya snapped, still struggling. "Mama promised I wouldn't have to, because _she_ was going to do it! She was going to be brave and become the Grail, and Daddy was going to use the Grail to make the world a happy place, and then he'd come take me with him to Japan!"

Elke released her ear such that Ilya overbalanced and fell.

Whimpering over the pain in her tailbone and the throbbing in her ear, Ilya looked quizzically up at this homunculus who had been charged with watching over her in Kiritsugu's absence. And though Elke had her usual blank returning stare, there was something…frighteningly intense now in the emptiness of her eyes.

Ilya shrank back, in spite of herself.

Then Elke turned away from her and swept from the room, disposing of the washcloth she'd been using in its bucket of soap and water. The ringing silence of the door to the bedroom slamming consumed Ilya, buried deep within her, reminding her all the more of the hollow emptiness of this place, now that she was alone here.

She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, but still, she refused to cave and start crying.

 _Kiritsugu will come soon. Daddy, he'll be here soon, and I can't let him see that I was crying._

Even so, she buried her face in her knees and trembled, curling into herself as much as she could.

Just as she was starting to rock back and forth as she became devoured once more by the painful restlessness within her heart, Mieke and Nele arrived, and Ilya was actually kind of glad to see them.

"Why don't we take a nice hot bath, eh, Miss Ilyasviel?" Nele suggested, and Mieke made another attempt at a smile. They were a little more like her mother had been, and unlike Elke, neither of them ever ran the water too hot, or were too rough when drying her off with the towel.

Ilya relaxed once she was soaking in the bath, and felt a little better even when she stepped ouy and was dried off and put into her gown for being presented in front of Grandfather.

True, this was actually the first time in not just days but weeks that she was actually seeing him again, since she'd outright refused since that horrible day he'd tried to tell her the horrible lie that her father was really never going to come back for her.

How stupid.

So there they were, in the Summoning Chamber again, and there Grandfather was, poring over another ancient text. And he lifted his cold, narrow eyes to Ilya upon Mieke and Nele presenting her.

And there stood Elke beside him, and just looking at her now, Ilya knew without having to put it into any kind of concrete wording that _she_ was the heart of the reason that she couldn't stand dolls. There was nothing further that needed to be thought of on that matter.

"Well now," said Acht, straightening and steepling his fingers as he surveyed Ilya, who unabashedly scowled right back up at him. "Have we had some time to calm down? Are we ready at last to face reality and assume the duties of your role as the new Vessel of the Grail?"

Elke's eyes shifted his direction, and then snapped right back to staring straight ahead.

"I won't be your Vessel, because Kiritsugu's coming for me," Ilya growled, her hands clenching into fists as they clutched the skirts of her little white gown that was just like her mother's gold and white one had been—a design her father had picked out, she'd been told.

Acht met her scowl, and then he titled his head to one side. The corners of his mouth twitched oddly.

But he did not smile.

"I wonder…do you fancy yourself a damsel-in-distress, and Kiritsugu Emiya your knight, who will come to save you? Like in those fairy tales your mother would insist on reading? Lies that your father… _fed_ her…?"

"I know they're just stories," Ilya argued at once, "but…they're true too…that's what…Mama taught me…because…Daddy taught her that…the way they make you feel…that's what makes them true…."

Ilya closed her eyes as she said this, lifting her chin, relaxing her face, breathing in deep, gaining a kind of regal poise, as she focused everything she had on how she felt about her father, about how he had expressed his love for her in return.

The man who had hugged her close in his arms as though to shield her from the world, from the moment she had been born…who had smiled at her like he was the happiest person in the world to be with her, and she likewise with him…who had lifted her up in the air or on his shoulders and made her laugh, laughing with her…who gave her presents and told her wonderful stories…who taught her lovely things about the world beyond Einzbern Castle…who had rescued her as a small child from freezing and drowning when she'd fallen through thin ice, wrapping her in his warm coat to protect her from the cold, saving her life the same way he'd saved her mother when they'd first met….

Those things…those marvelous things…they couldn't be lies.

Never.

"He has abandoned you," Acht repeated coldly. "And now, as I understand it, for another child."

Ilya's eyes flicked open, her heart and breathing stopping, just for a moment.

"Another…child…?" she echoed, frowning.

Acht looked away, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes again and assuming an indifferent air. "I have learned…from my seeing eyes within the city of Fuyuki…that he has taken up residence in a house there, and has adopted a small boy as his son."

"Adopted a…son…?" Ilya shook her head. "It's a brother for me. That's all!"

That was as easy an explanation as anything, and she believed that implicitly the instant she'd thought of it. After all, it was true that there had been times she'd timidly expressed that longing interest to play with kids her own age to her parents, to which her mother had always smiled sympathetically and stroked her hair, agreeing that it would indeed be nice to have friends, while her father would tell her, "Ilya, when we go to Japan, you'll meet lots of other kids. I promise. We'll put it on our list…."

And that had been the end of that.

Still, Acht remained steadfast.

"No," he said. "You see, your father is giving his love to another, that boy. He no longer cares…about what happens to you."

"But that…doesn't…make sense…."

"If he _did_ care, do you not think he would keep something like…this…from happening….?"

On the word, "this", he nodded curiously and almost imperceptibly in Elke's direction. And before Ilya could dodge and try to get away, Elke came down on her quite swiftly and grabbed her, whipping out a syringe from a pocket in her skirts.

Ilya could only give a small squeak of fear and protest as the needle stuck in her neck, her last thought, of all things, being, _Is this what it's like…to get stung…by a bee…I wonder…?_

"Miss Ilyasviel!" yelled Nele as Mieke caught her in her arms, and that was the last thing Ilya was aware of before she blacked out.

When she came to, she felt that her wrists and ankles were bound together by cold metal, and that she was lying out on an icy, hard surface, and she'd been taken out of her pretty dress and put into some kind of paper gown. Blinking her eyes open blearily, she quickly grew more awake when memories of this room she was in came flooding back, along with her fear.

That one day that she remembered her mother collapsing, and Kiritsugu carrying her to this room so Acht could fix her—

The Alchemy Chamber!

Seeing that she was tied down on the same table where they had laid Irisviel to get examined, Ilya began to panic as she imagined the horrors of getting stuck with more needles, and the fact that she was strapped down to begin with.

Still, she kept the tears at bay.

So what if they did horrible things to her? She could endure that too, until Kiritsugu came. It didn't matter what Grandfather Acht said. She knew if her father were here, he certainly wouldn't let such things happen to her, not without doing something about it, not without fighting to protect her. She remembered…she remembered…those times when Acht would try to bring her here before, and her mother would argue against it, and Kiritsugu…he would get that scary look in his eyes, far scarier than those moments when he'd had to discipline her for misbehaving…and he'd show that scary look to Acht…because he'd been protecting her….

He had promised her…promised her that no matter what, he would always be there to do whatever it took to save her, from that day she'd hurt her knee while they'd been playing their walnut game, to that time she fell through that freezing ice….

She would not let Acht take that away from her.

As for this son he said Kiritsugu had adopted, well…she was more than willing to stick with the idea that he was just getting her a brother to play with. He wouldn't just replace her with another child. He had called her, "his precious Ilya" more than once. She would never forget such words from him, any more than the words, "I love you". They were carved forever in her heart. The Kiritsugu she knew from birth—the _father_ she knew, would never decide to break his promise to her and leave her here alone to suffer, to cast her aside for a different child. After all, they had even sealed such things with pinky promises, and though she could never abide forcing her father to eat a thousand needles for breaking a promise to her, there was still no doubt in her mind that he stood by these promises much as he had any other.

Because he was her father, and he loved her as dearly as she loved him.

Still…he _was_ taking an awfully long time…and so she'd been given to understand, he was quite apt at breaking through Bounded Fields…the one around Einzbern Castle should have been no different so…if he wanted to come back…he'd have already….

 _No! I can't think that way about Daddy. It's just too horrible…._

She might have succeeded then in not shedding a single tear, but even so, she could not deny that there was a painfully growing impatience in her heart, mixing with the anger she felt towards her grandfather, all of it germinating crookedly and gnarled within her, if very agonizingly slowly.

 _Hurry, Daddy, hurry…_ please _hurry…._

And, growing tired, Ilya actually fell asleep, almost lulled by the grim ceiling above her as it actually grew tedious to stare up at, lying strapped down on that slab, alone in the gloomy Alchemy Chamber, full of its shining tubes and beakers and sharp instruments. As she slept though, she had wicked, troubling dreams of her father walking away from her, never turning around even when she called out his name and tried to run after him, unable to catch up with her tiny, tiny legs—

Only to wake, and still be strapped down.

Then the lamps came on and the door to the Alchemy Chamber creaked forbiddingly open.

Ilya's heart began to pound, both with anxiety and with the flame of hope still burning that that might be her father, coming for her after having stormed the castle to reach her.

But it was only Grandfather Acht, followed by Elke, Mieke, and Nele. While Acht and Elke looked as cold and impassive as ever, Mieke and Nele actually had their heads bowed, as though ashamed.

Ilya flinched against her will when her grandfather loomed over her, his white brow furrowed as he stroked the frozen waterfall of his beard.

"Grandfather…" she croaked, in spite of herself, "where's Kiritsugu? Where's my daddy?"

Acht ignored her, asking Elke to pass him a "scalpel".

A bucket of ice dropped in Ilya's stomach as Elke passed Acht what looked like a knife. It didn't matter that the blade was thin and tiny—it was still sharp.

"Should we not…sedate her again?" Nele's voice suggested nearby, a little tremulously.

"Nele, she needs to be conscious for these procedures," Elke admonished in her usual monotone. "We only sedated her to bring her here since it was clear she would resist." Her blank red eyes found Ilya's frightened ones. "The time has come to begin her on the path to follow her mother and sisters."

Ilya felt her pupils shrink within her eyes as they widened out, deepening into her skull. Her entire body grew tense as she saw the blade of the scalpel in Grandfather Acht's hand come her way.

"No, please don't do it…it'll hurt…" Ilya moaned, scarcely able to breathe.

An image of Kiritsugu's face flashed in her mind, and she remembered the dream, how he'd walked away from her, no matter how much she'd cried out—

 _"_ _Daddy…Daddy, come back…!"_

The pain sliced into her left arm, cutting into the vein running through the exposed inside crook of her elbow, sharp and fiery, reaching through her coldly pouring blood to her heart—

Ilya let out a scream, as another memory came to her, one of when she'd been really little, and she had cut her thumb on the thorn of a rosebush, and Kiritsugu had sucked the blood from the cut, while he'd done his best to reassure her in his kind, deep voice that everything would be all right—

The cut came again, and Ilya screamed again, this time shrieking out:

"DADDY! DAAAAAAAAAADDY! DADDY, PLEASE! PLEASE, DADDY!"

Even then though, no tears came. Ilya shrieked at the top of her lungs, and she struggled and squirmed and kicked as much as she could against her bonds—

But she did not cry.

She did, however, pass out from the pain before Acht had even finished with all the additional cutting he was doing into the incision he'd made into her arm.

The last thing she really caught through the haze of pain was him saying:

"...all over her body...would certainly give her an edge...Magic Circuits in the shape of a human..."

Then the world faded into blackness. Ilya escaped into the realm of sleeping dreams, where she was with her mother, speaking to her in a soft, happy voice as they sat together on her parents' bed.

"That's wonderful Ilya," her mother praised, stroking her cheek, her eyes full of glowing love for her precious daughter. Then she noticed something behind them and her smile grew.

Ilya looked too, and gave a gasp of delight, hopping off the bed. "Kiritsugu! Daddy! Welcome home, Daddy!"

Indeed he was there, and like always whenever she'd run to him full tilt, he caught her up in his arms. Without giving him a chance to speak, she threw her arms around him, exclaiming: "Oh, I'm so happy you're finally back! Mama and I were waiting!"

"Ilya..." Kiritsugu wrapped his arms tight but gentle around her, holding her close to his heart as if he never wanted to let her go.

And he was just as warm and tender as Ilya remembered, and at that moment she thought she might crack and cry after all she was so indescribably happy.

"Daddy!" She giggled in spite of herself and kissed his rough cheek, hugging him again.

"Oh Ilya..." Kiritsugu hugged her even tighter, stroking her hair. His voice cracked strangely.

Perturbed, Ilya pulled back, and was confused at how…off…her father's eyes seemed. They were...empty.

A cold ring of metal pressed underneath Ilya's chin with a loud click, and even though she couldn't really process what was going on, she was transfixed by the way her father was looking at her.

"Goodbye...Ilya..."

 _Goodbye?_

But then the world exploded, taking Ilya with it, and the horrible realization surfaced in her mind, fuzzily at first, but then clarified into sharp and painful focus.

 _Daddy...you...you killed me..._

As it sank in like a knife blade, Ilya heard a distant screaming in the darkness that surrounded her and that grew louder and louder, until her open mouth told her—

 _She_ was the one screaming.

Her eyes flew open, and she went on screaming, finding herself still bound on the table in the Alchemy Chamber. She screamed until her throat turned raw and she ran out of breath to keep screaming.

Still, she ground her teeth and kept any tears at bay, even as she gasped like she'd been running round and round, like those sunlit days her mother would chase her all over the library until the both of them could scarcely breathe for laughing. But here, once she caught her breath, there was only the gravity of her situation pressing in upon her.

 _I swear, I will not cry_ , she forced herself to think, even as her mind still reeled from that horrible nightmare of her father killing her. Why on earth had she had such a horrible dream? True, Ilya's experience with the concept of death was limited only to understanding the fact that when someone died, there was no way to see them again in this world. Her mother had had to forfeit her life in order to provide the Vessel to summon the Holy Grail. That this would result in her dying and Kiritsugu never being able to be with her again in their own lives, the sadness that her father had seemed to carry with him made more sense…until now.

If he had been so sad by the fact that her mother would have to die, then why had he tried to destroy the Grail in the end?

Had it all been…a lie…?

 _No! It was just a dream! It wasn't real!_

But then, maybe it _wasn't_ just a dream. Given what Ilya had learned about the nature of herself and her mother, and those other dreams she would have sometimes of Lord Justica…what if it was...the Grail…itself…contacting her somehow…?

 _You're beginning to understand now, aren't you, my love? That what Grandfather speaks of is true...that your father has betrayed us…._

"M…Mama…?" Ilya shook all over as she'd never shook before, locked in a paroxysm of terror, almost like she'd climbed up high to the top of the tower on this castle, and was on the edge of falling off….

She shut her eyes, but to her horror, she saw things as if she were dreaming, only she was dreaming while she was awake. Already confused and frightened, she could only watch as the vision itself unfolded into that of her father with his hands around her mother's neck, her mother clawing at him as he pressed on her delicate throat, tighter and tighter, with those hands that had always been so strong, so reassuring before….

"My love…please…stop…!" Irisviel gasped in a terribly raspy voice.

But Kiritsugu pressed onward, wordless and cold. A monster.

Then Irisviel's neck snapped, and her fighting arms and whole body fell limp.

Like a doll.

Ilya felt a sudden urge to vomit.

Instead, only more screams came out, to the point that that was all she knew, until a soft yet urgent voice cut through.

"Miss Ilyasviel!"

 _Nele?_

There was another pinprick in the side of her neck, and before she knew it, she was falling back into the gentle arms of a dark sleep again.

When she woke, she was at last tucked into her own bed in her own room, unbound and wrapped instead in her lovely blankets. In the little fireplace, there was a fire going. Beside her bed, Ilya made out the shape of a woman at her bedside.

"Mama?" she croaked groggily, her head still swimming and uncertain of what was real and what was a lie. But then she quickly came more awake and saw it was Nele, who had been making her usual failed attempts at knitting. With practice, Irisviel had eventually learned to make her own knits pretty. Nele's were still crooked, but Ilya had to admire her curiously human persistence.

"Ah, Nele." Ilya sighed, and Nele looked up.

"Oh! Miss Ilyasviel." Nele's voice had a quavery edge to it. She worked up a smile that she likely learned for herself from watching Irisviel when she'd been alive. She set aside her knitting and cleared her throat. "Ahem. How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I think." Ilya made an effort to sit up in bed, seeing that she'd been stripped of the paper gown they'd put her in and slid into her nightie.

There was a knock on the door, and Mieke's voice calling, "Excuse me."

"Come in!" said Nele rather brightly, and Mieke entered carrying a cloth and a bowl of water, which she set on the nightstand beside Ilya's bed.

"Did you…carry me here?" Ilya asked Nele and Mieke, starting to twist her blankets in her hands.

"Well, I stuck you with the tranquilizer, but…Mieke carried you," Nele said.

Mieke, who was a little quieter than Nele, nodded in affirmation.

Ilya looked between them and then said, "Thank you."

"Would you like to wash your face off?" Nele asked, nodding to the bowl of water and the cloth. "You've been asleep for several hours."

"Um…mm-hm." Ilya suddenly fell into melancholy as she began to reminisce about the aftermath of that day she'd fallen in the ice, and Kiritsugu had rescued her, and he and her mother had kept vigil while she'd recovered.

Her mother was dead, but…Kiritsugu….

 _Why aren't you back yet?_

Quickly, Ilya grabbed the cloth and soaked it in the water before burying her face in it. The warm water soaking into her skin felt good, the same as a hot bath would when the water was just right. She scrubbed her face furiously, fighting back those accursed tears again.

Even so, when she dried her face off and was at least able to relish in that clean feeling on her face, the melancholy stayed with her. The melancholy of desperately missing her father.

She blinked up at Nele and Mieke, who both blinked back at her, Nele tilting her head to one side.

"Um…." Ilya put the cloth back in the bowl, drying her hands off with the dry end. "Do you…think my daddy would…leave me behind…? He wouldn't…. It's a lie…right…?" She couldn't help it. She began to speak faster. "It's a lie, right? Grandfather Acht is lying for some reason, right? Right?"

Nele and Mieke looked at each other.

Nele bit her lip.

Mieke heaved a sigh and then said, as they both turned back to Ilya, "We wouldn't like to believe such things of your father, Miss Ilyasviel. However, he was indeed very…secretive about why he was staying behind instead of returning with us to Einzbern Castle." She lowered her eyes, and looked mutedly regretful of her words.

"He…was…?" Ilya's mouth went dry.

Nele gave a little moan, regretful as well.

Ilya looked down at her hands as she fiddled with the blanket again. _Why? Why would he…?_ She shut her eyes, and there was that horrible vision again of her father killing her mother with his own two hands. It clashed terribly with memories of him from before he left, that and that dream where he had taken…what was that thing called…? A gun? And killed _her_ ….

"Daddy," she whispered.

 _No…no…no…._

But then that voice…that had sounded like mother's but…eerily so….

 _Yes…that is the truth of things. He is our enemy. He must be punished. Punished for his betrayal. The Grail War will give you that power…my love…._

"What's this…voice in my head?" she asked Nele and Mieke, a little detachedly, feeling like she was being pulled between two different realities.

Nele and Mieke looked at each other, exchanging worried glances.

She snapped back into the normal reality when there came a loud rapping at her door. It opened before anyone extended an invitation to enter, and there was Elke, emotionless as ever.

Or maybe….

Ilya tilted her head to one side as she looked at Elke, wondering if she didn't see something like contempt seething beneath that empty gaze as she observed Mieke and Nele.

Then her eyes flicked Ilya's way.

"Ah, you are awake, I see, Miss Ilyasviel." Then she looked at Nele and Mieke—rather accusatorially, actually—and then said, "Would you please leave the two of us in private?"

"Yes, Elke," said Nele and Mieke both, Mieke bobbing a curtsy, and Nele doing the same once she stood from the chair beside Ilya's bed.

After the two of them took their leave, Elke assumed the chair Nele had been occupying and met Ilya's quizzical gaze. Ilya did her best not to flinch though, even as she felt uncomprehendingly dizzy while doing nothing more than sitting up in bed.

"Elke…?" Ilya started to ask, twisting the blanket in her fingers once more.

"Enough, Miss Ilyasviel," Elke cut across her coldly. "This has all gone far enough."

"But…."

"I already know what it is you are going to ask, and I have nothing more to give you than the same truthful answer that I have already given you multiple times. Kiritsugu Emiya has no intention of returning to this place to take with him to Japan. He has abandoned you in favor of another child. Let this be the end of this matter."

"But…."

From what felt like a distance, Ilya started to hear a kind of ringing in her ears. It quickly intensified to the point that it grew painful, and, giving a cry, Ilya desperately hugged her ears, hunching over and shaking from head to toe.

"Stop it…stop it…make it stop…" she whispered, and those horrible visions of her father killing her mother, of killing _her_ , assaulted her again.

"Accept the truth," she heard Elke say, as if from underwater.

Ilya looked up at the homunculus, and the way she was looking at her, the way she said those words…once again she felt that pull from this reality into another, a tearing of her soul between the two…and that voice that sounded like her mother but wasn't her mother in her head again….

 _Accept the truth, my love…._

"Oh Mama…."

And then there it was.

It sank into Ilya's heart like a glass shard.

Ilya felt it split in two.

It hurt even worse than the ringing, than that rose thorn that had pricked her when she'd been smaller, than bruising her knee, than falling through that ice and plunging into that impossibly cold water, than any of those other bumps and scrapes and bruises and cuts she'd acquired in her growing up as a tiny child that possessed a free and strong spirit that was far larger than her body.

She must lock that all away now.

Because…because….

"Kiritsugu…Kiritsugu…oh _Daddy_ …." And then she croaked, in a whisper that was like the breath of air that extinguished a candle: "How could you…? No Daddy…no, no, no, no, no Daddy…."

The ringing stopped, but the pain in her heart only sharpened to a point that it was utterly unbearable. Ilya clutched at her tiny chest, breathing in gasps until her prickling eyes could no longer hold back, and the hot tears came as she succumbed to the terrible truth of her beloved father's betrayal. Everything inside her became washed over in sadness, on a scale she had never before known until now. A terrible pull of the tide that she could no longer fight.

For the moment, she would be weak.

Because for the moment, it was all she could manage to be.

One choked sob after another tumbled out of her between little sniffles. With one last bid effort, she desperately wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tight, but it was no use. The grief only intensified, and, letting all of it go, she cried out, long and loud, wailing, lifting her face up as though she were trying to find her way up to the sky beyond the castle, while the room echoed with her howls.

Deaf to anything else beyond her own suffering, she went on screaming out this way, burying her face in her hands as she wept, over and over, "Daddy…no, Daddy…noooooooooo, Daddy…!" For a little while, she lost sense of time, until she vaguely felt that prick in the side of her neck again, and then she only had enough time to stop her crying and realize what had happened before she collapsed back on the bed, falling into the dark nothingness of the tranquilizer with which Elke had stuck her.

In this dark sea of serenity, Ilya was left floating helpless within it. But, at least temporarily, she was given respite from the nightmares she would never be able to wake from again.


	3. Fangs of the Lamb

**Chapter Three**

 **Fangs of the Lamb**

When Ilya awoke, everything came back to her slowly. And the moment she remembered everything, her body seized up in a pain blooming within her heart, just for a breath…and then she went limp again, constructing a wall of numbness around her. Actually, it was rather easy for her to shut herself off from her own feelings.

So this was the way Nele and Mieke found her when they came in to check on her: lying awake on her back in her bed, staring, her red eyes no doubt reflecting the emptiness she went back to floating in from within herself.

"Miss Ilyasviel?" Nele attempted a conversation.

Ilya turned her head slowly towards the sound of her voice, even though it seemed to come from so far away. But she wanted it that way. She was beginning to think actually that if she stopped moving as much as possible, for long enough, maybe she would simply disappear, or dissolve right into the mattress beneath her, and never have to feel again.

After all, what was the point? She had no one in her life who mattered anymore: her mother was dead, and her father had left her here to waste away, after he'd promised he'd come back for her. There was so much she still couldn't understand or sort through. She couldn't decide which hurt more, the fact that she would never see Kiritsugu again, or the fact that he was the very reason she would never see him again…that he had _chosen_ to leave her behind. That and though it was his fault, at the same time she grieved and longed for his return, longed for him to scoop her up in his arms again the way he always used to do for her, if only to prove all of these terrible things wrong.

She just…wanted to be able to love him as she always had.

What could she do? What could she feel? She didn't know even that.

"Miss Ilyasviel…I…I'm so sorry," Nele said, fidgeting with the skirt of her maid's dress.

Something faint pinched inside Ilya at seeing Nele and Mieke look so apologetic, and she mustered a quiet: "It's okay. I just…I think…I don't feel very well…still…. Could I just…sleep for a bit…?"

Nele and Mieke exchanged apprehensive glances, and Ilya guessed that they were told they had to drag Ilya out of here for some reason, no matter how she felt.

What? More needles jabbed in her skin, more cutting her open with a scalpel?

Ilya sighed.

Of course, she'd rather just lay here. But she found she didn't really care if she got dragged somewhere else, she supposed, so long as she didn't have to think. And if it was painful, well, at this point, no physical agony could compare to that inside her heart. And even so, she was already working to numb that heart to any further injury, wounded as it was.

She blinked slowly and heaved another sigh. "Fine. Take me wherever. I get it."

Even so, when Grandfather Acht began his cutting into her flesh with the scalpel once more, her terror emerged unbidden, and she wailed for her father as she had done last time, and would have kicked and bucked had she not been strapped down like last time as well.

"DADDY! DADDY, PLEASE COME SAVE ME! DADDY, PLEASE…!"

After that she dissolved into tearful sobs, experiencing again that feeling of being rent in two from within, but not just between two realities, but between opposing feelings too…love and hate…grief and anger….

The darkness of sleep that washed over her again as a result of succumbing to so much pain was her only relief, that and waking up again in her own bed in her own room so she could metaphorically lick her wounds. Once more she floated along in her own sense of emptiness, and wondered vaguely even if perhaps she could maybe just die from so much despair consuming her. Was that possible?

 _At least then, I could truly be with Mama again…._

Ilya pulled Klara to her and hugged her tight, burying her tearful face in her soft wooliness. "Oh Klara…." She sniffed and pulled back, looking over the stuffed toy lamb with great affection. "Daddy gave you to me as a present. He did because he loved Ilya…right? Right…?"

But the toy of course could give no answer. All she could do was be something Ilya could squeeze again to her broken heart, and soak her tears. It hurt so much, and again she felt that sense of her shattered heart coming back together, but growing back twisted and gnarled from how painfully the pieces fit against each other in their struggle to regain form.

"Daddy…Daddy…how…how could you make Ilya cry and suffer like this…?" Her whisper in the gloom of her room came out as a rasp, almost wicked. She choked again on her sorrow, trembling even as something burned within that gnarling heart. "I…I'll never…I'll never forgive you now…for…leaving me…Kiritsugu…I…I _hate_ you…."

Even as it was all she had left to cling to, this hurt too. She had never had a reason to hate anything or anyone before, and it was certainly a feeling that did nothing but cause her more pain…yet somehow it was strangely satisfying. And it followed her into her dark dreams as she fell back into sleep, alone in the dark of her room, alone with the germinating seed of hatred within her. A part of her still howled from within, begging that seed not to grow anymore, to stop taking over her, but the rest of her surrendered to it, as doing so, despite the agony it brought her, somehow made things easier to bear than anything else.

However, if her father were to appear now, she could probably still find it in herself to forgive him after all. Even with the poison of hate coursing through her and growing stronger with every second that she brooded on it, love was still there, crying out for salvation. For her to speak of hate now, really and truly, was still nothing more than with a child's words, a child's concept of hate, which could be as fleeting and flaring as a shooting star, nothing more than a transitory passion, and just as it could grow given enough time, it could also be swayed into annihilation, given sufficient reason to be so.

This was what drew her to go on slipping into her parents' bedroom, to comfort herself with wrapping herself up in the blankets of the bed her parents had shared. How many nights had she rushed in here after having a scary dream about Lord Justeaze, crying for her mother and father to tell her that everything was all right? How many times had she trusted them when they'd told her so, been comforted by those words without fail?

Not only that, but she found herself sneaking into her father's old office now and then too, poking around with a strange kind of pleasure, as she'd never been allowed in here by herself before—the door had always been locked whenever her father hadn't been inside working here. Of course, things like his "computer" and "printer" were gone, but that "telephone" was still hooked up. From what she understood, people could pick up the handle and type in a sequence of numbers on the pad of buttons and it would allow them to speak to a specific person on the other end.

Maybe…maybe there was a number sequence that would reach Kiritsugu?

So she spent several hours on one of these explorations searching though notebooks left behind that might give her a number she could dial.

She did find a few, but all of them turned out useless, as when Ilya—having finally gotten the hang of dialing—tried them all, all she got in return was a machine message that told her that the number was no longer in service, only to click into silence.

Eventually she got curious about the rows of books on the shelves, and she would flick through them, left with nothing else to poke through. She didn't quite understand most of them, even though she could read very well. On a technical level, she could understand how the rows of words strung together, but fundamentally, her comprehension was cloudy. What she got out of it though was that there was a lot written in these books about guns and people dying. Many times, Ilya came away from these books with tears in her eyes, though again, without understanding why. Though she suspected it had to do with all the death she was reading about.

Her mother had mentioned to her once that her father was always trying to be brave and heroic for the two of them. Was he trying to be the same for these people in these books? Had he…wanted to save them somehow…?

 _A world…where no one cries…._

She came out sniffling from one of these afternoons spent in that office, only to be greeted by Nele. She jumped at the sight of her, afraid she might've been breaking some kind of rule she didn't know about.

But Nele smiled that kind smile of hers that reminded Ilya a bit more of her mother. "It's all right, Miss Ilyasviel. I won't tell your father when he gets back."

Ilya tapped her index fingers against each other, fidgeting. "You…so you think…he'll come back…even though…Grandfather said…?"

"Yes, I think so," Nele admitted quietly.

"Why?"

"Because…there's just something…that tells me he will. I suppose…a human would call it…instinct."

"Instinct?"

"Yes."

Outside the window of Kiritsugu's office, Nele spotted two birds passing by in the midst of a courtship flight, and she crossed the threshold into the room through the door Ilya still had open, and looked out at the shining, snowy landscape. Ilya joined her, almost skipping, as though a small part of her body still wanted to be the happy girl she'd been before her parents had left.

"Something curious I always noticed—though I suspect he never realized I did—was that your father kept…what he was feeling…in reserve…hiding, except…when he was around you and Madame Irisviel. I don't understand why he would, why he would feel he would need to hide emotions if he feels them, but then…I'm not human. Still, I wasn't the only one who noticed." Nele gave Ilya her soft smile again. "Apart from Mieke and myself, there was another one of our kind who attended to your family, particularly in the instance of your birth."

"My birth?"

 _Yes, that's right. I'm different not just from humans, but from homunculi too. I'm built like Mama…but I was born like a human…like Kiritsugu…._

"Who was she?" Ilya went on to ask, curiosity sparked.

"Her name was Aloisia," Nele told her, her voice laced with a rather human fondness. "She was a very sweet one of our number, and it was clear she was devoted to your mother, and your father, and you. Unfortunately, she was…killed…when you were still a baby. And even if he didn't show it, I know…Kiritsugu…was upset by it…that he couldn't bear that, any more than he could bear that the one who killed Aloisia wanted to hurt you too. And…though no one in the family speaks of this…he made certain that that threat against you was removed, for both your and Aloisia's sakes."

Ilya swallowed. Not since Kiritsugu had left had she seen much if any of the others of the Einzbern family, like Auntie Greta and her many cousins. She was given to understand that she'd once had a Cousin Malte who'd assisted Grandfather with his alchemy, but he'd died in an accident caused by an experiment he'd been working on in the chamber.

Or so she'd been told by Grandfather Acht.

In any case, to Ilya, people like Auntie Greta weren't her family. Her world contained only Irisviel and Kiritsugu, and apart from having no other children to play with, that had always been enough for Ilya.

Nele gave a small, quiet laugh and patted Ilya on the head. "So have faith, sweet child. Have faith in how dear you are to Master Kiritsugu."

And then she left, and Ilya watched her go, feeling lighter than she had in what felt like ages.

Only for that lightness to be crushed by the weight of Elke appearing at the door, and giving her a cold, hard, frightening look of disapproval so sharp that it scared Ilya into scampering out of the room before she could lay a hand of discipline upon her. Her heart thumped like that of a terrified rabbit as she sprinted back to her own room within her family's private rooms, as she wondered how much of that conversation Elke had heard…and how much Nele would pay for it. Something told her, by the way Elke had looked at her, that what Nele had told her was something that she shouldn't have, beyond the fact that really and truly, Ilya should _not_ have been poking around in Kiritsugu's office.

* * *

Ilya began to lose interest in her toys and books as the white days turned gray in their endless onward march. Between sleeping off her grandfather slicing her open for hours on end and her increasing despairing uncertainty over Kiritsugu, her heart's constant pendulum swing between love and hate, all these beautiful things that reminded her of her father and the affection he had showed her caused her nothing but more aches inside of her, more tears buried in her pillow. The only thing she could muster herself to do was curl up at her window and hug Klara to her, a small part of her still wanting to believe, to not give up.

Apart from that, Nele or Mieke would come along now and then and each in their own way try to coax her into taking a walk outside in the wintry forest with them. Sometimes Ilya was not to be pulled away from her vigil, other times she gave in. A few times when she did, she tried teaching the walnut game to Mieke and Nele respectively, but neither, vexingly enough, seemed to really grasp it, and anyway, it wasn't the same as when it had been Kiritsugu playing with her.

Forlornly, Ilya would look up at the winter trees, that canopy she had once observed icily shimmer with such delight as she'd ride upon her father's shoulders or cradled in his arms, while she would prattle on about stories and games she had made up on her own, the time Kiritsugu had listened to her so attentively…stories and games she could dream up because he and her mother had given her the gift of imagination…of those fairy tales her mother read to her…those stories her father would tell her.

One that would stick in her mind in particular was the one he had told her to comfort her when her mother had suffered some ill alchemical effects, and Acht had frightened her with his anger over how she'd been crying out to see her mother in such pain. The story had been about a queen—whose name Kiritsugu had said was the same as hers, Queen Ilyasviel—and this queen reigned over "a world where no one cried". A world that was happy thanks to Queen Ilyasviel, and she protected that happiness with the help of her trusty steed, "Kerry" (which of course was supposed to be her father, she'd figured out on a spritely giggle, for all the times he'd played the horse for her). They had had many adventures that came to pass, but the one Ilya remembered best was the first one she'd heard, that day her mother got sick: the day Queen Iyasviel and Kerry defeated the Wizard of Sorrow.

 _If I could have that kind of power_ , Ilya would muse now as she recalled these thoughts and feelings, outside in the snow, _that would indeed be wonderful. I could even bring Daddy back, I'll bet._

And when she thought of that, she thought a bit more about the Grail too, about how things had ended inconclusively in the war her parents had fought in, and piecing together those dreams she would have of Lord Justeaze with those cruel imaginings of her mother's voice in her ear, she knew the Einzberns were right in basing their preparations on the prediction that a Fifth War was inevitable. Even after so much, that "miracle" of the Holy Grail had again evaded all who had tried to seize it.

With all of this weighing on her mind, Ilya started to feel, day by day, that despite her small size, despite how little she'd grown physically in the current span of her life, that she was actually rather older than her eight years. Eight-going-on-nine, actually. That in and of itself was almost just as hard to believe, but there it was.

No, she didn't want to give up her life for the sake of the Grail, though, she did want to be as brave as her mother had been doing the same thing for her sake. And, if it gave her the chance, perhaps…to win back her father…maybe….

That didn't make her any less melancholy about it though, about all of this uncertainty, about all of this pain pressed upon her. And as all of this progression of such dark feelings taking over her halted at Nele waking her one afternoon from a troubled sleep and offering to take her out for a walk in the snow, Ilya, still attached to her father and the happy memories of playing outside with him, felt well enough once again to accept rather than reject.

"Where is Elke and Mieke?" Ilya asked as the two of them walked beside each other, wrapped up in their winter coats in the wintry forest, white and calm within the dome of Acht's Bounded Field.

Nele actually gave Ilya a playful smile. "Elke was looking for you, to take you to Grandfather, but Mieke volunteered to serve as a distraction so Elke couldn't get to you before I did."

Ilya stared up at her. "But why? Won't Grandfather be angry you kept me from him?" she asked, even as she was relieved that today at least, she might not have to suffer getting cut open by Acht's scalpel.

"Maybe, but…." Nele averted her eyes. "I can't help it. I know your mother and father never wanted this for you."

Ilya's eyes widened, and that fading love still crying out within her heart grasped onto this shard of hopeful light shed its way. "Daddy…."

Just then, the wind picked up, icy and sharp. Something must have suddenly agitated Grandfather Acht. Even so, Ilya's small ears picked up at a voice on the wind, a voice that she could have sworn with everything happy she had left inside her was calling her name…calling her name in the voice of her father….

 _"_ _ILYA! ILYA! ILYA…!"_

Ilya's heart began to beat faster and faster with sudden, hopeful anticipation. "Daddy…." Without another thought, she broke into a run, and behind her, she heard Nele follow.

Yet she didn't call out for Ilya to stop, as she might've expected her to.

Instead, she cried: "Go, Ilya! Go!"

Spurned further on by this, Ilya quickened her pace, despite the smallness of her legs and the depth of the snow, despite the rising wind and white out of the thickening snowfall, to the point where she could scarcely see two feet in front of her.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

But then the howls of the wind cut off all sound, surrounding Ilya in nothing but white noise and white snow. Realizing she'd get utterly lost if she kept going on, Ilya stopped, catching her breath and hugging herself in the biting cold despite the warmth of her coat and hat.

Her eyes filled again, tears coming both from her grief rising up again, and from the cutting wind. Then she took a deep breath and cried out: "DAAAAAAADDY! DAAAAAAAADDY!"

In the echoing silence filled only by the rising tempest of ice, there came what sounded like a shriek, but then, it might've just been the wind.

And then, for a moment, her hope returned to her in a breathless glow, as a shape emerged from the snow—

Only for it to be Elke hefting a great silver halberd that she was actually well-trained in wielding, from what Ilya was given to understand.

And the blade of the halberd dripped crimson with blood, while in her free hand she carried—

The severed head of….

"Nele…" Ilya squeaked, covering her mouth with both her hands as she sucked in a gasp of horror.

Elke lifted Nele's head up so that their faces were on a level. She flicked her crimson eyes between her and Ilya, and then said, "Thank goodness, Miss Ilyasviel, I found you before Nele could bring her betrayal of you to fruition."

"W-What…?"

"Ah, little lamb. There's still so much you don't understand. Don't you see? Nele has woven the same trickery around you as your father did, being kind and loving to you, then giving you reason to believe that your father was out here in this snow, only to lead you as an innocent to slaughter."

"You mean she was…?"

"Indeed. She had every intention of your getting lost in this storm and freezing to death, bringing all of our plans, all of our careful preparations to naught but ruin." Elke gave a low hiss of disapproval and tossed Nele's wide-eyed, slack-jawed head to the ground unceremoniously. And then she held out her hand to Ilya. "Come. Let us deliver Mieke her punishment together. After all, she played her part in this scheme, trying to trick me as much as you that your wicked father had actually appeared to return to you."

Ilya gaped at her. "Punishment?"

"We will dispose of her, as I have done with Nele. They have outrun their use to the Einzbern and what prayers we hope to have answered at last in the miracle of the Holy Grail. Come."

Still shocked, Ilya watched Elke press onward through the snow with her halberd. She looked beyond from where Elke had come just once, and when nothing but silence answered, she turned away, accepting that she had been lost in her own delusions, her own weakness.

No more.

It really was time to wake up.

 _He…really isn't…coming back…all this time…his love really was…a lie…a lie just to help himself when he had needed her…and now that he didn't…._

And then Ilya thought of horrible words she didn't even realize she knew, except that they echoed from some distant memory…her father's voice perhaps…muttering them under his breath without thinking in a fit of frustration.

 _Damn. Bastard._

After all this time, every joy he had given her, had just been a means to destroy her in the end. To use her and her mother, and then, having done with them, abandoned them, left them to die…for a different family, a different child, this new child he had apparently adopted…to replace her….

 _Damn him._

Ilya clenched her tiny fists, her gnarled heart growing all the more twisted with this news of Nele's and Mieke's betrayal coupled with Kiritsugu's. Her little jaw started to work, and before she knew it she was grinding her tiny teeth, her breath hissing between them.

When Elke threw open the double front doors, Mieke was just rushing down the stairs, and reaching the bottom, she spotted the blood on Elke's halberd blade, and her normally subtle face became bent and contorted with a frightening blood-rage. Rushing to a suit of armor, she tore off the sword clenched in the armor's fist, and came at Elke like a wild cat.

Elke hefted her halberd, and when she swung, though Mieke managed to dodge the blow with an acrobatic leap, it wasn't high enough that the blade still didn't slice though her ankles, cutting off her feet. Mieke gave a savage scream and dropped like a puppet cut from its strings, hitting the ground and wailing as bones broke.

And then Elke, instead of finishing her, stepped aside, pulling a dagger from a pocket of her dress and holding it out to Ilya.

Ilya stared at it, and then looked up at Elke, mouth dry.

"Go on, Ilya. Take her life. Pass judgement on her as the Einzbern Princess you were born to be."

Without waiting for an answer, Elke pushed the dagger into Ilya's tiny, limp hands. Ilya clutched onto the handle of the dagger in those hands, and she began to tremble, as the full weight of the violence that had unfolded before her pressed in upon her.

Mieke, writhing in pain on the ground, turned to Ilya with wild eyes such as Ilya had never seen on her. "Miss…Ilyasviel…" she gasped. "Please…you have to…your father…."

At the mention of Kiritsugu, the gnarling of Ilya's heart curled inward, much like she were inflicting herself with pain as a reaction to it.

It was all she could do for a reaction. Now…pain was all she could feel to hear of her father. Because all of this…all of this was his fault.

 _Kiritsugu…._

Mieke stopped in midsentence as she pled with Ilya to show her mercy, to listen to her. And Ilya knew it was because an expression had come over her that was terrifying to behold. She could only croak then in fear as Ilya, with cold conviction, her growing hatred sharpened and reforged into a blade of ice, came around behind her and slashed the blade of the dagger across the fellow homunculus' throat. And despite her inexperience with such matters, her aim was true, slicing Mieke's throat clean open, spilling her blood as she fell limp with a choked cry.

As the polished floor bloomed with the growing pool of Mieke's blood, Ilya watched with a detached calm, using the same means of numbing herself as she had been of late, to shut herself off from her pain and despair over what she could no longer deny was the truth of her father's having abandoned her.

With her own two little hands, she had taken a life. Yet it left her feeling nothing but empty. There was a kind of cold satisfaction, the kind of satisfaction that came simply from being able to check off the completion of a task. Nothing more. Her heart might as well have gnarled into nothing more than a lifeless rock sitting inside her small chest. In that respect, she could function from moment to moment as nothing more than a machine, which perhaps made sense, given that, in the end, all along she had been nothing more than a tool.

The only thing about it that disturbed her was how easily it came to her, like she'd been born to it. Or something.

But then, thinking about it that way, maybe it made sense. For though her father had turned out all this time to have been a cold, cruel, unfeeling man, who would soon as kill as look at someone if it achieved his own selfish ends, he was still, unfortunately, her father, tied to her by blood…and it seemed…he had passed on that capacity for cruelty to his daughter.

So, in spite of the innocence and playful curiosity and bravery she had received from her mother, at the same time, she could turn all of that off, turn off all of her kindness in her heart, and slaughter as many as she needed to…to achieve her own goals. And do so without an ounce of pity.

 _The Grail…it's all I really have left…otherwise, I'm on my own. But I'll be fine. I know that now for certain._

She lifted her eyes up to Elke at last, and offered the knife back to her, even as its blade still dripped with Mieke's blood.

Elke took it without comment and cleaned the blood off with a fistful of her skirt. Then she turned her cold red eyes on Ilya, the faintest light of approval flickering in them.

"Remember this, Miss Ilyasviel, for it will be one of the most important things you will ever be told, barring what you must learn as your role as the Einzbern Princess: Any human like your father who is kind to you only wishes to betray you." And then she bent and took Ilya by the chin with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Even those of our kind, like Nele and Mieke, employ the same tricks when corrupted by humans like your father. You are, after all, only a tool. An important and precious tool, but still, only a tool. To your father, you and your mother were only means to an end, and when his plans failed, he had no further use for you. So, in the Grail War to come...make him pay for his betrayal."

"Make him…pay…" Ilya echoed, her voice a strange rasp hissing from her throat. Then slowly, she nodded, a foreign eagerness inside of her, an eagerness to dedicate herself fully to the task she was born to that she might draw blood again.

Kiritsugu's blood.

She had asked him once why she had been born. He had told her it had been because he and her mother loved each other. But no, that, in the end, had been untrue.

 _This_ was the reason she'd been born. No more than that.

Her life held no meaning other than to die. Even so, she had a new reason to live in her own way. Though she would have to die, at the very least, she would seize this chance to make Kiritsugu remember what he had done to her, and drag him to Death with her.

Even if…even if he shrieked and begged for his life. She would show him no mercy.

He had cheated her again, like all those times during their walnut games when she'd caught him at it. And like those times, she would see to it that he was punished.

That was the only way she could go on another step towards her own dark and terrible end.

"Is it done, Elke?" sounded the low voice of Grandfather Acht across the foyer.

Ilya and Elke looked up, and Elke nodded in affirmation.

"It is done. The traitorous Mieke and Nele have been executed." Elke's eyes flicked in Ilya's direction, but Ilya only had eyes for her grandfather as he descended the grand staircase, while huddled members of the Einzbern clan remained at the top, watching with both apprehension and curiosity, Auntie Greta among them. But Ilya of course ignored them too.

At the bottom stair, Acht surveyed Ilya with his frigid, imperious eyes, and for what seemed like a painfully long while, until he finally nodded in austere approval.

"Very good. Then come along…Ilyasviel."

He didn't have to elaborate. It was time once more to descend into the Alchemy Chamber so he could work on her.

"Please, allow me to wash her hands of the blood first, Grandfather Acht," Elke requested, to which Acht agreed.

Ilya found she was fine either way. Her feelings had plateaued into a gray and empty form, and she was willing to endure anything, so long as it took one step closer to her own, new-sprung ambition to take revenge for her pain on her father.

Still, an hour later, as Acht cut into her again and injected her with all sorts of agonizing elixirs, there was nothing she could do to hold back her screams and shrieks. At the same time though, she felt her screams and shrieks take on a new kind of life, as though they were fueled as much by anger as they were by pain, something that managed to root her in her own reality, and make her feel some semblance of power, glaring up at the ceiling as she was with a cold fire burning in her eyes and in her heart.

Howling like a beast…baying for blood.


	4. Corrupted Lamb

**Chapter Four**

 **Corrupted Lamb**

Ilya examined herself in the mirror one morning, and thought that she just might have grown a little taller since last she'd been measured. And about time too. But then, she had been told she should expect to grow much more slowly—if at all—going forward. The fact that she might be taller then, actually felt like a small triumph to her, though she couldn't think why. She thought she might've been able to answer that question once a long while ago, but now…everything about that life before now felt like a cloudy, murky dream.

At the tender age of eight, she had come to know what it was like to snuff out another life with her own two hands. Since that day, she had approached everything in life much more coldly. Except for one aspect of her life.

All that her father and mother had left behind, all that they had been unable to take with them to Fuyuki, Japan, all the things that Kiritsugu had given her as presents over the years. Honestly, she didn't know what to do with any of those things, but she couldn't bring herself to let go of them either. A very small part of her was still attached to them, to that reminder that she had once been a bright and happy girl, with a mother and a father who had both loved her dearly.

By now, Ilya had fully accepted that she would have to go on getting by on her own. Certainly she had Elke, acting solely as her maid for the present, but she felt no affection or sense of companionship for her. Which was just as well, as Elke didn't seem to care about things like that. Actually, there were moments when Ilya would examine the Einzbern homunculus out of the corner of her eye with not a little suspicion. She had learned from this homunculus that it would be a mistake to ever trust anyone other than herself again, and her father Kiritsugu's abandonment had been a harsh reinforcement of that for the year since coming to terms with that horrible, world-shattering truth. Still…she was disinclined to trust Elke quite as much as anyone else, and she had a sneaky feeling that Elke, rather superiorly, probably assumed she was above suspicion of anything merely because she had given Ilya that weapon.

Obviously, she had no idea of what it could be that she should be suspicious where Elke was concerned, but nevertheless, it was there.

Just so, she felt instinctively that she needed to wait for something, and in a mannerism that recalled something that still lived faintly within her, Ilya licked her two forefingers and smoothed out a few locks of her silver bangs before saying, "Okay, Elke. I'm ready."

Though she said this however, time had not made her time spent under the knife in the Alchemy Chamber with Grandfather Acht any easier. Despite her newly developed stoicism, that all broke apart into shrieks of pain once the Einzbern family head started cutting her open, poking freely into whatever exposed vein he was working on to infuse with enhanced Magic Circuitry.

A human-shaped cluster of Magic Circuits….

All this passed in a haze, and Ilya couldn't be sure anymore whether she still cried out for her mother or for Kiritsugu. Only the pain stayed with her. And while Acht took his leave without a word, he left Elke to wordlessly bandage Ilya up as usual. What was the point of even dressing herself up in that outfit of a purple blouse and prim white skirt when she was presented to her grandfather this way, when this was all their relationship would be: her being slid out of the dress and into a surgical gown?

Then Elke too left, having been called away to deal with another one of Jubstacheit's "specimens"—more of Ilya's homunculus sisters.

Ilya sat on the edge of the operating table, alone in the chamber, the places where Acht had cut her open that day throbbing beneath the bandages soaking her clotting blood. She stared at her hands and before she knew it she was shaking, unable to regain her composure, crumbling as her true despair threatened to engulf her from within.

"I…why…? I…I don't like this…why can't this stop…? I'm…I'm tired of this…I don't want to do this anymore…why do I have to be cut open like this…why can't it stop…?"

 _Because of him…._

And then the thought of her father flickered in her mind…the man who had left her to suffer this way, when she'd thought he'd always love and protect her. So thinking of this, her shaking hands began to shake not out of temerity, or even shock, but out of a growing itch inside them to find their way to Kiritsugu Emiya's throat and squeeze until she'd choked the life out of him…or slice a blade across that throat just as she had done to Mieke….

Even though such thoughts frightened her upon reflection, in the heat of the moment, she felt them sincerely and without remorse or hesitation.

Then that flickering image of her father became a growing flame in her heart, and she ground her teeth together until the pressure popped inside of her, and without another reasonable thought she grabbed a nearby glass beaker and hurled it against the opposite wall with a yell.

"It's all _his_ fault!" she snarled, and reached for another beaker.

By the time Elke returned, summoned by the commotion, Ilya had leapt off the operating table and was halfway to destroying all the lab equipment within reach of her, the ground littered with glimmering broken glass at her feet.

"Miss Ilyasviel!" Elke scolded, only for Ilya to cut her little foot open on one of the shards of glass as she whipped around like a feral child.

The both of them gave a gasp, and only then did Ilya feel the pain of her injury as she stared at the fresh red blood flowing from her foot. But rather than succumb to tears, she gave another yell of frustration and fell to her hands and knees, something desperate within her driving her to find a shard she could use to cut herself again and again.

"Miss Ilyasviel!" Elke snapped, marching across the broken glass in her boots and picking up Ilya by the collar of her gown as though she were picking up a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

Ilya struggled of course, groping for that perfect shard of glass. "NO! LET ME GO! I'LL CUT MYSELF AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL YOU CAN'T CUT ME OPEN ANYMORE!" she wailed.

At this point, Acht himself came to investigate the ruckus, and his icy eyes went dangerously wide upon seeing the wreckage thus done to his precious Alchemy Chamber.

Then, much like that day he'd shouted at her to stop crying so long ago, he shouted at her again, unleashing his cold fury, with only Elke to shield her.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? ELKE, PUNISH HER AT ONCE!"

But then Ilya let out a strange, very sardonic and mirthless laugh, and even as it tumbled out of her, there was, at the same time, a small part inside of her that was frightened to hear something like that come from her.

"Punished? I'm _already_ being punished!"

And then the gnarled pain within her heart grew so acute that she thought for a split-second she might die if she couldn't find the means to get to Kiritsugu right then and there somehow and kill him with her own two little hands.

Just as fleeting, this peak ebbed away, and all Ilya could do then was go back to struggling against Elke's hold on her, screaming like some wild and angry animal. She was however vaguely aware that something in her crimson eyes must have risen up that shocked even Jubstacheit, because the anger drained from his face as he and Elke stared at her, and when Jubstacheit repeated his order for Elke to take Ilya away, he croaked the words, returning once again to his own grave and reserved demeanor.

So Elke obeyed with a nod, dragging Ilya out into the hall, only to stick her with a needle full of that sedative she liked to keep on hand whenever Ilya got out of sorts like this. If Ilya didn't know better, she might've said she'd actually grown addicted to such injections, and the rare dark peace they brought her.

Hours later, she awoke blearily in her bed in her room, her fresh wounds tended to, the pain barely there anymore. Only to realize that she had tears in her eyes.

Had she been…crying in her sleep?

Hastily, Ilya wiped them away, banishing such foolish things. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, once more regaining her new, collected, if jaded, persona.

"Quit being such an idiot," she muttered under her breath to herself. "You will never achieve victory in the coming Grail War behaving so childishly."

Outside it was dark and snowing, while a fire crackled in the hearth of her fireplace, keeping the room warm. Ilya though almost didn't feel it. Feeling emptier and emptier by the moment, she slid out of bed and crossed over to the window, gazing out into the swirling, silver darkness. Then she padded out of her room, dressed in her nightgown, and into her parents' old room, doing nothing but collecting dust, as Ilya rarely visited it anymore.

She traced her fingers over the neatly made-up bedspread, thinking about the time her mother told her about the day she was born. She had been born in this room, after all.

 _"_ _Well, it was a lot of hard work for your Mama, but she was glad to it," Irisviel told her with a kind of reverence._

 _"_ _Did it hurt?" Ilya asked, across the little table in her parents' bedroom, where they were painting pictures of flowers together, copying from a book—Irisviel's elegant and polished, Ilya's lumpy and blotchy._

 _"_ _Yes," Irisviel admitted, not without difficulty. But then she smiled brightly for her daughter and touched the side of her face, her red eyes overbright. "But Mama would do it again, because I could never regret going through all of that, when you, my wonderful, beautiful baby girl was born because of it. Mama was so indescribably happy to finally hold you in her arms."_

 _Ilya dropped her paintbrush and reached up to clasp her mother's hand in both of her tiny ones. "I'm sorry though, Mama, that it hurt."_

 _"_ _Don't be silly," Irisviel laughed, shaking her head. "You are a precious gift to both me and your daddy."_

 _But Ilya bit her lip, still unsure. "Was Daddy sad about it? About you being so hurt?"_

 _"_ _Yes, even though Mama wouldn't let him stay with her while she was having you," Irisviel admitted, looking forlornly away at the table covered in her and her daughter's paintings, but not really seeing them, it seemed. "So I never speak of this with him."_

 _"_ _I thought you and daddy talked about everything though," Ilya said, tilting her head to one side in confusion._

 _"_ _Some secrets we keep," Irisviel told her, looking at her again, with a strange kind of wisdom in her eyes, the kind that passes between mother and daughter…and Irisviel and Ilya were even more than that. "To protect each other's feelings. Daddy loves you and Mama so much, and it's hard for him sometimes, because he'll always want nothing more than to spare you and Mama from pain, and he knows that that won't always be possible. I know he's strong enough for it, but I still want to spare him any more pain as much as I can."_

 _"_ _Because you love him so much back?"_

 _"_ _Yes."_

 _"_ _Well then…Ilya wants to do the same too, for Daddy. Because she loves Daddy so much! And Mama too…!"_

Though the sadness at the memory washed over Ilya's locked up heart, no tears came this time. When she put her mind to it, she had disciplined herself well for all this time thus far.

What sort of secrets then, had Kiritsugu kept? Ilya could only conjure possibilities, but she realized she should have known all along that her father might deceive her one day. And her mother too, she supposed: why else would she have mistakenly said that Kiritsugu would do anything to spare her and her mother pain? If he did, he would have come for Ilya by now.

No. He had hidden the truth from them both, and her mother had suffered for it, then Ilya too, paying that terrible price.

After all, why not, if there _had_ been secrets he'd kept from her and her mother? Had such secrets been here then, from the moment he'd stood beside this bed, at this window, holding baby Ilya in his arms for the first time?

Yes, they must've been.

But there could only be speculation on this too.

Ilya hugged herself and shivered. Then she slipped out of the bedroom and into the main hall outside, wandering into the dark of the castle, thinking what a cruel lie her father's love had been, and wondering why it had been so. There was so much she still didn't understand, and that just made her angrier with her father, if that were possible. All the more eager to kill him, make him pay for what he had done to her and her mother.

She tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling, but like everything and everyone else in this castle, there were no answers to her burning questions to be found here either.

All that her future held now was the Grail. At least if she could have revenge, she would die happy. In fact, the idea of exacting vengeance made the truth of her sealed fate of death following in her poor mother's footsteps feel inconsequential to her. Really, what was the point of reclaiming a life she wouldn't be able to spend with the father she had adored, the father she could do nothing but hate with all she had left inside her for what he had done?

In the end, it would be wondrous to have that moment…have it and then be freed from her sorrow.

 _On the other side, I'll find Mama again…Mama…._

Ruminating thus, Ilya didn't realize where she was until she came out of her thoughts and found herself down in the halls below, towards the Alchemy Chamber. Taking the steps further down, Ilya felt gripped with a scrap of curiosity still left, if withering, inside her. So she crept beyond the chamber where she was always operated and experimented on, to where she had never been before down here…to where she caught a faint blue light shining out of a room as yet unexplored by her. Not that she'd ever fancied exploring such a horrible place like the Alchemy Chamber before, as the place had held nothing but pain for her.

There she came across what she quickly realized were the other of the Einzbern "specimens". Encapsulated in each glass cultivating tank, all of them ranged in a row, was a homunculus being created just like Irisviel had been. Though it made Ilya tremble to venture to look at the truth of how it was the Einzbern homunculi were created, she felt the time had come to force herself to do it. She passed by each tank and brushed her tiny fingers over the metal plates engraved with labeling runes she couldn't read. Each specimen was naked and asleep, enveloped in amniotic fluids. Each tank was hooked up to a kind of device that seemed to be getting readings of some sort.

Were they dreaming, maybe? Did everyone dream a dream that they forgot after they were born into this world? Did Ilya? If she did, had it been happy? Would she have known?

And if she did, did that mean that…unlike these homunculi…she might have…a soul…?

"I wondered when you might come and seek this chamber out, child," said a voice like the rustle of old pages.

Ilya turned to find her grandfather at the doorway to the chamber, hands tucked in the sleeves of his white and gold robes as usual. He was being strangely gentle, Ilya could feel it. He even seemed to be looking at her with a rare kind of fondness.

But then he regarded the specimens in their tanks in the same way, and Ilya quickly surmised that it was with the kind of fondness that she might admire a picture she had painted and was pleased with.

Jubstacheit drew closer to the tanks and touched his palm to the glass of one, passing his hand over the sleeping face.

"You need not be afraid of it," he went on, as Ilya watched him with her red eyes. "Your mother was born the same way. It is how things are done. Of course, you are an exception, as you experienced a human's birth from your homunculus mother. But crossing homunculus and human blood…has given us you, our greatest achievement yet. Created with all the linked wisdom of our beloved Lord Justeaze…born as a human being with all the power of a human mage, making your construction flexible, easy to manipulate, and able to grow even more powerful from that." He looked over at her wondering expression. "This will make you the most powerful mage in the Fifth Grail War, if not the world."

Ilya sucked in her breath. "It will?" she whispered, in spite of herself.

Acht nodded. "Tell me, do you hear the voice of Irisviel now and then? And of Lord Justeaze?"

"Yes," Ilya admitted. "Sometimes as one voice."

The corners of Acht's mouth twitched. "The Grail speaks to you more clearly than it has to any of your predecessors."

"The Grail…." Ilya bit her lip.

It was disturbing to her, somehow, that even though it was her mother's or Lord Justeaze's voices she was hearing, it was really a communication from the Grail. Or both, maybe. It unsettled her, because it made her fear the memory of her mother in some ways, as though in death she might've become some terrifying phantom, a dark ghost reaching out for her, to drag her into some deeper darkness, as it spoke to her of the inevitable Fifth War, of how the Grail had been incomplete, and therefore had not been completely destroyed, and still yearned with the pulse of the unborn to achieve physical form at last in this world.

"Yes, child," Acht was saying. "And through you, the Third Magic will at last be achieved, the miracle for all of humanity."

Ilya blinked up at this man, who called himself her grandfather, as he did share blood with Lord Justeaze in that she was his ancestor, like all of the other human Einzbern kin…and yet…though he looked at her with a kind of esteem she'd never seen on his face before, she couldn't help but be perturbed by that too.

Actually, it started to upset her.

Because he only spoke of _human_ salvation.

What about the sisters who had come before her? And her poor mother…who certainly hadn't been saved…but had been cast aside so easily…not just by her father, but by this man too….?

Grandfather Acht bent over and took Ilya by the chin. "The final preparations are coming to fruition, fret not. Your Magic Circuits grow more vibrant each day, such that you will be able to accept the final incantation fully into your body…a Mystic Code designed solely for you."

"What Mystic Code?" Ilya had to ask.

Acht ran the pad of his thumb across Ilya's cheek, but it was so cold it almost felt more like a claw than a thumb. "The Dress of Heaven. The key to…."

"…the miracle for humanity."

"Yes. Very good, child."

Acht withdrew and straightened to his full and imperious height, tucking in his hands in the sleeves of his robes once more. "Rejoice. With your victory, we will forge the greatest and most honorable tribute to you yet, your holy and pure image forever maintained in the beauty of colored glass in the grandest window of the Summoning Chamber, as all of the Vessels who have come before you." He even smiled, just a touch. "You are our heroine, Ilyasviel."

"Heroine…."

Another memory surfaced, one of when she and her mother had been taking a bath one night, and she had asked her mother:

 _"_ _Mama, can I ask you something about Kiritsugu…?"_

 _"_ _Of course, Ilya. What is it…?"_

 _"_ _Well…sometimes…I think he might be sad about something…but…when I ask him about it, he just smiles and says he's happy. It isn't something Ilya did, is it?"_

 _"_ _No, Ilya, it's nothing like that at all!"_

 _"_ _Then what's wrong…?"_

 _"_ _Ah, Ilya. Your daddy's working very hard so that day will come when you can leave this castle. You know that right?"_

 _"_ _Uh-huh! Kiritsugu promised he would take Ilya to see the starbugs. Ilya hasn't forgotten…."_

But Ilya had trouble remembering the rest. So much had happened since then.

As she thought about this, lamenting all the more how she and her mother had been lied to again and again by Kiritsugu, Acht took his leave of her, drifting out of the chamber like a specter. Ilya turned to watch him go, and staring after him, she began to tremble again. With all of the unborn homunculi in their tanks behind her, a dark, nihilistic sensation began to consume her from within, even as she was too young still to put it into words.

Her tiny hands curled into fists, and a new anger rose up, one that made her want to vomit quite as much as that horrible dream she'd had of Kiritsugu killing her and her mother.

"All of us…me…Mama…we're nothing but empty dolls…never destined to have any kind of happiness of our own…we're all the same…and Mama…she didn't even…have a soul…." With a painful gasp she pounded once on the metal plaque of the nearest tank, and looked at the specimen inside forlornly. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, the tears coming back against her will. "No identities of our own…we're all…the same…simple puppets…even…even _me_ …!" She ground her teeth again. "These Einzberns…who do they…WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?" she demanded of the vaulted ceiling above, shrouded in shadow.

And then she did something she hadn't allowed herself to do in a long while, and sank down against the end of the cultivating tank, letting herself sob until all of her tears had run dry.

* * *

Ilya began to watch Elke with even more growing suspicion as the snowy weeks wore on. Was it because she had just never really liked her? Why had that been? Had she not liked her _because_ she'd always sensed something suspicious about her, or had it been because, unlike Nele and Mieke, she had done nothing reminiscent of her mother's sweetness? To the point of holding Irisviel von Einzbern in contempt?

Somehow, Ilya could not abide that.

It made it worse when Elke tried to emulate that for Ilya, to give that appearance when Ilya knew she didn't really feel that. Whereas Irisviel's red eyes had been full of sparkling life, despite her fate, and even Mieke and Nele had had their moments…and she supposed that one called Aloisia had been the same…Elke's eyes never once sparkled so. Even when she smiled, those crimson eyes were dead.

She was the emptiest one Ilya had ever seen.

 _So, you lie too after all, do you, Elke?_

Such thoughts rose up as Elke did things like serve Ilya tea, or groom her, or give her lessons in basic education or etiquette, or give her the bath she would take every evening. Ilya then would only nod in solemn appreciation, her crimson eyes continuing to be ever watchful.

Yet, this went on for months and months and months, with nothing coming of it except for Ilya's growing frustration that there was nothing to set off a kind of trigger within her to ventilate that frustration by some means. She tried to find ways, but nothing settled the increasing disquiet in her mind, not books, not the useless toys she rarely played with anymore, except for the ones that made use of her brain. Even Klara, her precious stuffed lamb, spent more time on her bed than in her arms.

Eventually though, Ilya decided to just accept it for now. After all, the two of them rarely exchanged words anyway, so it wasn't as though they exchanged opinions enough to stir anything more in her heart than this simple frustration that was nothing more than an itch she couldn't reach in order to scratch. Day in and day out, Elke served her tea while she read a book by the window, then gave Ilya her lessons, then her bath, and then escorted her to the Alchemy Chamber, tending to her afterward before feeding her and putting her to bed.

That and there was talk of the Grail War, looming ever closer, to distract her as well. Acht began discussing things like what Class would best suit their needs for this time, what Heroic Spirit they should summon in order to achieve their ends successfully. Going over what reading Ilya had done into these matters, she put in that she got a certain feeling where the Berserker Class servant was concerned. She felt a logical instinct towards that Class, as though compelled by the will of the Grail, or perhaps knowing that the Grail already intended to choose this Class for her.

As she calmly and flatly laid this out for Acht, Acht took it into serious consideration, stroking that frozen waterfall beard of his, and Elke stood silently by, awaiting instructions as ever.

Honestly, Ilya was getting the sense that the idea of the savage Berserker Class gave her some kind of satisfaction, as though it fed something hungry within her that she alone couldn't seem to sate. As she thought about it, she smiled a rather bitter smile to herself, a subtle one, just a tug at the corner of her mouth.

 _Now all that's left is to find a Heroic Spirit that could fit in that Class_ , she mused, and she went into her afternoon reading time that day with that thought in mind.

She curled up as usual in the chair by the fire in her own room, and Elke came in as usual with her afternoon tea, the same kind her mother used to drink with milk.

But instead of simply taking her leave, Elke lingered, asking with that artificial smile of hers: "And how are we feeling today, Miss Ilyasviel?"

Ilya raised a cool eyebrow at Elke over her book on ancient Greek myths. "Feeling? Fine, same as always."

Actually, if she could give what she was feeling a color, it would be a bluish shade of gray. But she didn't expect Elke to really understand that.

"Oh? Just 'fine'." Elke squinted strangely at her, still wearing that smile. Then she said, "Very well then, Miss Ilyasviel. I shall leave you to it." She bobbed a curtsy and left, and Ilya watched her leave with perplexity for a moment, before brushing that aside and turning back to her book.

The rest of the day played out like normal, ending with the pain of experimentation and getting cut open again. And the following day played on just as usually.

But again, something different happened when Elke served Ilya her afternoon tea.

"Yes?" Ilya prompted when Elke didn't say anything this time.

Then Elke assumed an air of muted, if pretended, regret. "Well, Miss Ilyasviel, I am afraid I also have some news to report, though I hesitate to inform you of it, as you might find it distasteful to hear."

"Oh?" Ilya laid her book aside and folded her hands in her lap. "Well, that's of no consequence. If you need to tell me, then I need to know. So…what news do you have for me?"

Elke lifted her eyes from the floor, and for a moment, a strange shadow flickered in her crimson irises before she said, "We have received word from our seeing eyes within Fuyuki City, Japan, that your father, Kiritsugu Emiya, has died."

At first, the words sounded to Ilya as through water, and she had to think about them for a moment. Just to be certain she had heard correctly, she said, slowly, "Oh…he's…dead?"

"Yes, Miss."

"My father…is dead."

As this thought settled inside her, Ilya felt confusion bubble up as she had not felt it since the days in the wake of learning of her father's betrayal. Those days of being torn between outright hating her father and desperately wishing for a reason not to, to be able to simply love him as she always had before. Even now, she supposed, she still grappled with that at odd moments.

Now…he was dead. On the one hand, his death meant simply that her revenge was being taken away from her, like everything else of value to her had. On the other hand…he was quite as gone from this world as her mother was. Dead and gone. Dead and gone and he had never come back for her.

For one weak moment, she thought of the way he had laughed with her, out in the snow, playing with her, and something twinged painfully within her, a tearing from her cold and hardened heart.

 _"_ _Ilya, do you want to ride on Daddy's shoulders, so you can see the walnuts better?"_

 _"_ _Okay! Lift Ilya up high, Daddy!"_

 _"_ _Alright then, princess! Up we go...!"_

 _"_ _Wahoo…!"_

…and the way he would nuzzle her nose, calling her his sweet Ilya…that soft voice telling her those wonderful stories about Queen Ilyasviel and her knight and steed, Kerry….

"Daddy…."

She put a hand to her chest, if only to quell how painfully it beat faster and faster, how hard it was for a moment just to breathe, while tears prickled threateningly at the corners of her eyes.

"Daddy…you…."

And then she found her anger and her hate again, that it wasn't enough that he'd betrayed and abandoned her to a meaningless life of pain and death, but that he had even taken away her chance to confront him, to grab him and shake him until he told her everything, to strangle cries for mercy out of him, beat on him until he apologized just like all those times he'd cheated when they'd played their walnut game….

 _Damn you. Damn you, damn you, damn you!_

Shutting her eyes and struggling to regain her composure as her small hands curled, she asked, with an effort: "What about…that…son…of his…? Is he still…there…?"

"To my knowledge, he is," reported Elke without hesitation.

Hearing this, Ilya found her collected serenity again. She gave a sigh of relief even, her mouth curving again into a smile as she opened her eyes to the ceiling. "Good," she said, the purpose that had been driving her, slipped from her grasp, once more coming within reach of her again, and she gripped tightly onto it. "Then there's no reason to worry." Her smile widened. "I will simply make that boy suffer and die in Kiritsugu's place," she said, though she imagined she might have to give that more thought later on. For now though, coming to this resolution was enough to quell all that roiled painfully inside her at the news of her father dying.

Then she further thought to herself, narrowing her eyes as she leveled a glare at Klara sitting so prim, innocent, and half-abandoned on her bed: _Even so, maybe his death was painful. Maybe he suffered. I hope—I hope he did._

Thinking this though, she choked on her next breath, as though something within her rejected such horrible thinking about the man she had adored as her father. Her red eyes went wide, and she thought just for a moment again that she was losing her grip on her purpose of revenge once more.

When she found her breath again and gulped on air, she found Elke peering at her with some semblance of concern, blinking as though confused. Ilya saw her vision waver, and then she felt that trigger she'd been waiting for, pulled and released, though she couldn't fully explain why it was so.

 _What I wouldn't give…right now…to spill her blood…yes…I'd feel better…after that…wouldn't I? She was always horrible to Ilya…after all…._

The wheels in her brain turning again, her grip regained once more, Ilya grinned a grin that anyone who really knew her would see as far too sweet for her, fully feigning innocence, secretly relishing in it even.

"Elke? Would you mind doing me a favor?"

Elke blinked, but clearly believed nothing to be amiss. "Of course, Miss Ilyasviel. What do you require of me?"

"I wonder if you might take me down to the Alchemy Chamber?"

"But, Miss Ilyasviel, it isn't time for your daily procedure yet."

"I know. But I wanted to see…my…our…sisters."

Elke stared at her and then said, "Oh. I understand now." And then she smiled artificially again. "Very well then, Miss Ilyasviel. If you'll follow me."

On the way out, keeping behind Elke so she wouldn't see, Ilya grabbed the knife off the tea tray and pocketed it. It wasn't ideal, but Ilya felt she could work with it.

Down in the darkness of the chambers below, Elke glided ahead into the room where the cultivating tanks were kept. From Ilya's last visit, nothing had changed as far as she could tell.

More importantly though, there was no one down here to disturb them at the moment.

Ilya's mouth went dry, and she licked her lips, her entire being poised, her mind focused. She narrowed her red eyes icily as they carefully watched Elke's back, watched her as she stopped…

…she was going to turn around, she could see it…

…so…

…she should strike…

…now.

Elke was saying something, but Ilya didn't hear her. Her feet were already flying beneath her as the homunculus started to turn to face her, unaware…or perhaps, just now aware.

But it was already too late.

Ilya drove the point of the knife, and even though it wasn't very sharp, something in her will allowed the blade to sink into Elke's back as effectively as a full-fledged dagger. Elke jerked and gave a choked cry of surprise and pain, and turned shocked eyes over her shoulder onto Ilya, staring disbelieving at the little girl murdering her.

Then she gave a harsh cough and smattered the stone floor of the chamber with blood, falling forward onto her hands and knees. Ilya withdrew the knife as she fell, flicking blood off the blade with a single swish before coming at the prone Elke on the floor.

"Wait…Ilya…what're you…?"

Even as she held up a hand, Ilya brought the knife down again, slicing past her hand and across her face. Elke fell back with another cry of pain, and then Ilya went for her neck.

Though Ilya did garner some satisfaction from this kill, she felt nothing besides even as she was covered in Elke's blood, even as she refused to stop until the jerking, struggling Elke fell limp. There was still some life left to her, but not much. Ilya stood over her victim, this puppet who thought she could replace her mother, who thought she was above losing Ilya's trust...when she had had the gall to cause her pain, to inform her of her father's death, no thought of all the suffering Ilya had thus endured and would endure in the time to come. As she watched her die, Ilya caught her breath as though she'd been running, her heart pounding violently in her chest, her gaze pitiless as Elke reached up for her one final time before collapsing with a final, gurgling gasp, her head and limbs hitting the floor with a thud. Then she became quite still and dead on the ground, her crimson eyes blank and frozen in that look of shock that her charge had come up behind her and killed her, seemingly out of nowhere.

And then Ilya stepped back, flicking more blood from the knife, the virulent beast baying for flesh calming and subsiding. She couldn't be sure why, but from deep within her bones, she felt this was something that had to be done. Just so, she started to feel drained in the wake of committing her second kill, and all she could think of now was longingly of a bath to wash away the blood.

But then she heard movement behind her, and there was Acht…staring at her as if he had been expecting this. Or rather that he might have been pleased about something.

"I gather you have learned of the death of Kiritsugu Emiya," he guessed, his glacial eyes drifting once with intense sharpness over Elke's corpse on the floor.

Ilya tugged at her blouse and skirt, also soaked in blood. That would have to be washed out as soon as possible, especially out of the white of the skirt. "It came up," she said quietly.

"Ah." Then Acht gave a sigh, as though there was something about Ilya that actually legitimately gave him contentment, even as a man who had apparently learned nothing of what it meant to feel true joy and happiness himself. "Look at you. As little as I liked to think of that man since I began to sense his coming betrayal, I do find it admirable what he gave to you as one of your blood. You are indeed as cold and ruthless and savage of mind as he, the Mage Killer, once was."

Ilya gripped the handle of the knife and narrowed her eyes. "Do not speak to me of him. He is dead, and I have nothing to do with him, save for what business I still have with the son he chose over me. That and the Grail are my only reasons for living."

Acht inclined his head. "Very well. Of course. As you say."

And so saying, Ilya returned from her bath upstairs dressed in fresh, clean clothes, as she ordered once and for all that all of her toys and other childhood mementos be tossed into the fireplace and burned. Another one of the Einzbern maids was tasked with this and did so, and Ilya watched as each precious treasure turned molten and ashy...even Klara, in the end, after pausing just for a moment, tugging at the multiple-repaired ears one last time before tossing that in too, past caring, past feeling anything for it anymore. After that, she demanded that everything left in the office her father had once occupied receive the same treatment, though the desk and bookcases had be burned in a fire outside, they were just too big for the fireplace.

 _Burn away all those memories_ , Ilya thought, as now flames consumed the desk she used to giggle and hide under when she wanted to sneak up on Kiritsugu, or play at making him find her. _Burn away all those memories…that mean nothing to me anymore._


	5. Awestruck Lamb

**Chapter Five**

 **Awestruck Lamb**

Though it was clear at this point that Ilya could manage well enough on her own, and moreover, that she had accepted yet another harsh truth—that as a homunculus, even as one half-human, her life held no valuable purpose other than that of others' greed and desire, and the same was for that of her homunculi sisters, and that learning to tell them apart had become meaningless—in the time that came for her to be bound to the Servant she would need for the Fifth Holy Grail War, she was introduced to two homunculi who had been created and groomed to be her respective caretakers forthwith. She surveyed the two of them with icy indifference as she sat before them in a sofa in her newly furnished room, free of anything from her childhood after she'd had all such things burned.

The two of them may or not have been any of the ones she had examined up close in those cultivating tanks, and to her, it just didn't matter.

Meanwhile, for now, she'd told herself that burning all of those lovely presents from her childhood would have to do as far as getting her vengeance on Kiritsugu, who'd had the gall to die on her before she'd had the chance to find him and kill him herself. Her last hope was that she would at least be satisfied with a pound of flesh in the form of this boy he had abandoned her for, this…Shirou Emiya, as she'd been told he was called. And the fact that he carried her father's surname somehow made her all the more eager to take her killing anger out on him.

Such thoughts turned in her mind, which would have otherwise succumbed to ennui in the face of these pointless introductions to these two new homunculus maids before her.

"Well, get on with it, if you must," she sighed, when the more vocal of the two new maids initiated their curtsies, tapping her fingers impatiently on the ornate sofa arm.

"Very well," said the vocal one with annoying enthusiasm, already painfully reminding Ilya of Elke. Thank God she was rid of her. "I am Sella, and I will be your formal and primary educator from now on, particularly in areas of what preparations are needed for the coming Fifth Holy Grail War. And this is Leysritt, your primary guard, being excellently trained in combat with the halberd no less. The both of us will be tasked with looking after you from now until you fulfill your role as the Grail Vessel."

Ilya's eyes flicked like a snake in Leysritt's direction, further irked with this additional reminder of Elke, as she too had wielded a halberd.

What was worse though was that Leysritt, it seemed, still hadn't even fully grasped the art of oral communication, and spoke with the insufferable uncertainty of a nervous toddler.

"H-Hello, I-Ilya. Nice to…meet you." Then Leysritt gave a crooked, unpracticed smile.

Was there even any point trying to pass her off as a person? Ilya's tapping fingers curled into her palm.

Sella meanwhile gave a nervous laugh. "Ah-ha, well, you'll have to forgive her, for as you can see, the link Grandfather Acht created between you two is not quite—"

"It doesn't matter," Ilya cut her off sharply. "These introductions are meaningless. My only concern is what news you have for me concerning the Berserker-class Servant that was chosen."

Sella took only a moment to recover from Ilya's abruptness, inclining her head submissively, apologetically even. "Of course, my lady. The Summoning has in fact been performed successfully, and the Berserker-class Servant chosen for you is chained in the chambers below, awaiting your arrival to complete the Master-Servant link."

"Good." Ilya stood. "Let's take care of this, then."

Down in the chambers below, not far from the cultivating room where more of Ilya's "sisters" were awaiting birth within their tanks, Ilya met the muscular hulk of a Servant summoned in the Berserker Class, chained with the air of a sleeping dragon as he remained under some kind of spell of somnolence to keep him under control, presumably. The very air quivered in terror of his powerful presence. Were he to be awakened, with one blow he could easily crush Ilya with his fist.

But Ilya showed nothing of her fear. In fact, she reacted to him with cold frustration, and that was all she expressed, glaring at the one they had once called Hercules. More than that, but she felt no qualms expressing her pinched disgust of this… _thing_ …this half-naked thing that wielded a sword that resembled more of a club than a blade, though undeniably sharp. Inspired with such strong feelings of aversion fueling her anger that flooded her like the opening of an old wound, Ilya approached her Berserker without a single tremor in her knees.

Sella meanwhile was speaking of Berserker's high potential for success based on his raw power alone with nothing short of awe. "Summoning the mighty hero Hercules in the Berserker Class could not have been more formidable for you, my lady! Such utter power, waiting to be harnessed! With this Berserker at your side, your victory in the coming Holy Grail War is more than certain!"

"Be quiet," Ilya cut her short again in a voice that was dangerously soft. "None of that means anything to me. I don't care anymore. If I had my way…I would stop these Grail Wars altogether…. But I guess my death is the only answer to that."

"Miss…Ilyasviel…."

"Anyway, this Servant is nothing but a tool. A tool I don't even want."

"But…Berserker…Ilya needs…Berserker," Leysritt suddenly piped up with her halting speech. "Berserker will…protect Ilya…."

"That's all nonsense," Ilya declared icily, glaring at the pathetically shackled Berserker, deep in growling slumber. "This thing knows nothing of loyalty or trust. It will only obey me because of the magical pact between Master and Servant. Without that pact, this beast would kill or abandon me without a second thought. I would seek to win this Holy Grail War all on my own were it not required of me to use a Servant, were Grandfather not to insist, insist on _this_ one no less. I am the most powerful Master in the world…I don't need anyone else. I don't _trust_ anyone else."

"Ilya," Leysritt chimed in, in a rather small, even sad voice.

"Very well then," said Sella with resignation. "Then please prepare to complete the link and seal the pact. If it hurts, my lady, please do not hesitate to stop."

"Just keep your mouths shut and watch." Ilya took a step on the small magic circle that was drawn out and linked to the larger one on which Berserker knelt, chained as he was. "I will handle this."

As soon as she said this, Ilya accessed the Magic Circuits that made up most of her small body, opening them up to the circle under her feet and reaching across the link to the one on which Berserker was standing. The jolt of power from her to the Servant created a jolt that awoke the beastly man from his slumber. His eyes snapped open, glowing red as hot coals, full of nothing but a dark, raw hunger for violence, and he let out a groan and a roar of instant pain and anger.

Even so, he would not bend to Ilya's will. He resisted her attempts to reign him in under her control, physically straining against his shackles, while his consciousness violently rejected her. But Ilya was tenacious and held fast, channeling a seething sense of frustration underneath her cold determination into reaching out with her Magic Circuits to wrangle the beast.

"You…you will obey me, Berserker," she spat as the two of them struggled, nearly equals in power despite her body being so tiny. "Now _get up_!"

Still, Berserker resisted, yanking away from her.

Fresh anger sparked in Ilya, like more of her deeply buried wounds were reopening, bleeding ire, filling her and causing something to snap.

"Hey!" she shouted, throwing an outright punch at the barrier between her and Berserker as Berserker continued to shut her out. "You listen to _me_! You useless, hulking beast! Get _up_!"

All that pent up anger, all of it bred from such terrible pain and grief, over everything that had been done to her…Grandfather tormenting her…her mother's death…her father….

Berserker met her glare with one of his own, but to an outsider it would have been hard to tell which one was really scarier. Sensing she was gaining the upper hand at last, Ilya's lips twitched into a bitter, mirthless half-smile, and she gave one final yank with her Circuits to get Berserker to submit.

But as she did, she received a violent whiplash effect from the enormous amount of feedback she was getting from the Servant as a result of the work that had been done on her all these years, the price for having the potential to be so much more tightly bound to her Servant than any Master in the coming War would. Terrible pain socked her in the stomach and flooded her, leaving her only able to hug herself, bent double, as she cried out before falling to her knees to wait for it all to subside, shaking with both agony and anger.

"My lady!" Sella exclaimed, as she and Leysritt hurried to her side. "Please, sever the link now, this is too much for you. We can try reconnecting when you've rested."

"This is nothing," Ilya hissed, glowering as Berserker as he hung limp and defeated in his shackles, snorting heavily as he caught his breath, as though he'd been running hard. "A trifle. The link has been established. I won't sever it over a little pain."

"But my lady…."

"Shut up!"

Sella blinked, dumbfounded, as Ilya shoved her away, and Leysritt could only repeat, "Ilya…" in that sad, inept voice of hers.

Even as pain still wracked Ilya's tiny body, she shakily regained her feet, fists clenched, staring down the conquered Berserker. "You…you are mine now," she growled, only for the last of her strength to fade against her will, and the corners of her vision to darken as she fell into a faint.

Though it was Leysritt who caught her, Ilya looked up and thought for one shining moment that her mother had come back to her, only to realize her mistake.

"No…Mama…" she croaked, overwhelmed with more anger and grief and passing out, falling into the darkness such as she hadn't done for a long time.

* * *

When Ilya awoke hours later in her bed, she was a little confused at first, not to mention febrile. And again, for a brief moment, she was under the fleeting, illusory impression that it was her mother keeping vigil beside her bed, rather than Leysritt.

When she realized her error just as quickly, she felt herself sink further into the pillows of her bed with a huff.

"Miss…Il…y…a," said Leysritt slowly, and then she jerkily reached for a washcloth soaked in water to sponge Ilya's feverish face.

At first Ilya resisted her efforts, but then Leysritt actually managed to chastise her over it.

"Now, now…Ilya must look…nice…for Grandfather," she admonished, though with a placid grin on her face.

Ilya frowned, relaxing and letting Leysritt perform her ministrations as she asked, "Is Grandfather angry?" Something in her sensed that he was because she had passed out after establishing a link with her Servant. Something like that wasn't supposed to happen after all, if the Servant-Master link was strong enough…or rather, if _she_ was strong enough to handle the link.

"Sella is…speaking to him…now," said Leysritt, withdrawing the damp washcloth and dipping it back in the bowl full of water. Her eyes however darted up to the ceiling, a result of her inept grasp of human social skills in making eye contact while speaking.

Ilya looked away herself and chewed absently on a thumbnail, steadily rebuilding her wall around her heart, that wall that briefly crumbled with whirling thoughts and memories of her mother, old longings bursting to break free. She had to suppress them all, otherwise she would fail to win this War before it even begun.

Then decisively she sat up, drawing the back of her hand across her clammy brow. "What's the state of the Servant?" she asked, suddenly realizing with a bit of panic that she sensed nothing that felt like the monstrosity that was Berserker within her Circuits. Not a wit.

"Still in chains," Leysritt replied, and rather coherently. Sadly, even.

"So…the strength of my control…isn't sufficient." Ilya considered her hands, still so small. Yet they didn't tremble. She could only be further determined to prove to her grandfather that she was worthy to carry out her tasks for the coming Fifth War…to go to Fuyuki….

There was a knock at the door, and Sella arrived, and wearing a grim expression at that.

"My lady, Grandfather would like to see you once you feel well enough to dress," she announced.

"Very good." Ilya shoved the blankets aside and swung her small legs over the edge of the bed. "There's no point in delaying. I'm well enough now."

Below in the Alchemy Chamber, Ilya, once again prim and pressed in her violet blouse and white skirt (an alteration of the one that her father had bought for her before he'd left for Fuyuki based on what little growth her body had experienced since then), presented herself with a curtsy before Jubstacheit von Einzbern.

Acht peered at her with his usual icy sharpness down his wrinkled old nose, stroking that frozen waterfall of a beard of his. Even so, Ilya had learned to meet that gaze boldly with an icy one of her own, crimson eyes narrowed in perpetual, glaring focus. In spite of all the shining things she had abandoned in herself, there was a tiny flame of pride within her that she had managed to come this far as a person before her grandfather, a commendable feat from the tiny girl she had once been, who would cling to Irisviel's skirts in fear of this man…once upon a time…while Kiritsugu….

But that time was gone away, cast into the air like passing dust floating in the light, and Ilya could think of it with nary a tremor.

"You are well then?" Acht inquired of her with his usual clinical calculation.

"Well enough, Grandfather."

"However, it would seem the first attempt to complete the pact linking Master and Servant has gone awry. Perhaps we should take a look at your Circuits and see if they require adjustments?"

"If that is what you think must be done, sir."

"Very well then. I shall have Sella prepare the examination table."

It was all very much the same as before. The gown she was forced to put on so Grandfather could better slice her open with the scalpel and generally examine her body to his satisfaction, while Sella and Leysritt assisted just as Elke, Nele, and Mieke once did. The names were rotated, but for minus one maid, it was all the same as before. Calling Sella and Leysritt by the names Sella and Leysritt was no different than calling them Nele and Mieke…or Elke…or Irisviel….

Ilya blinked rapidly as Grandfather went about his work, but no tears came. They had long since dried up. She had nothing left except a calm acceptance, and muted anticipation of always receiving further orders, further instructions. When Grandfather completed his examination and found nothing to be amiss, he concluded that perhaps it was something within her own heart, and that it was her mettle that must be tested before they could proceed forward with her linking to the Servant Berserker.

"Your heart…is half-human, after all," he pointed out with a mixture of awe and disdain—awe for the fact that his ingenuity had contributed to achieving such a thing, disdain for the identity of the human that had contributed his genes to the process of making Ilya half-human.

Ilya eased herself up into a sitting position, dismissing Sella's and Leysritt's attempts to assist her. "What test would you set for me, Grandfather?" she asked, but she stared off at an empty beaker instead of looking at him.

"I will give you a test that has proved effective in the past, similar to one I used on your mother, in fact," he added, as an afterthought.

At this, Ilya couldn't help but prick up her ears and look up at him, almost like a startled bird, but Acht said nothing further and took Sella aside to explain things.

Shortly though, it became clear to Ilya what was to happen to her in order to test her ability to truly be able to make use of Berserker. And thereafter she found herself in nothing but her nightshirt, wandering around in the cold, snowy forest, deep and far away from the castle, tasked with returning in one piece.

Just like her mother had been, from what she'd been told. Though that story had always been told to her before as a kind of fairy tale. Irisviel had been cast out into the storming, snowing cold, beset by wolves, and Kiritsugu had braved the cold to rescue her from it, whereupon the two of them had fallen in love shortly afterward.

A regular knight-and-princess love story.

And here, in these same snowy woods, she would walk beside her father and mother, each of them holding her by the hand and smiling down at her…either that or it was just her and her mother, playing a little hide-and-seek amongst the trees…or her and her father, and their walnut game….

But no one would come to rescue her as Kiritsugu had done for her mother. No one was coming for her, for anyone who would have done so long ago had since died and left her behind. She would have to rescue herself. That was why she up and left Berserker. He was frightening, and she'd felt nothing but the impulse to run away from him when the two of them had been deposited in the deep woods. She'd given him one hateful glare before turning tail and darting off into the trees, and though he'd followed her, the beast, she'd managed to dodge him and give him the slip, until she'd wandered far off into a clearing and collapsed from exhaustion, only to wake up in the snow a little while later and remember everything.

Pleased to see that Berserker hadn't managed to catch up with her, Ilya regained her feet and started on the next step of finding her own way back to the castle.

"I'll see if Grandfather can arrange for a different Servant," she thought to herself aloud, and sniffed, just a little, as she trudged through the thick snow in her small bare feet. "One that isn't so scary…and doesn't hurt me when I try to connect with it…."

She blinked up at the bare, snow-laced trees, and those memories kept trying to overpower her, the nostalgia of these woods daring to play tricks on her mind, lull her into lowering her guard, as familiarity gave way to false impressions that she might look up and there Kiritsugu would be, just on the rise of that snowy declivity, his hands deep in the pockets of his long black coat, looking up at the gray sky, and then turning to smile at her approach….

 _"_ _Ilya…! Here I am…! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, princess…."_

 _Yes, you did. You've kept me waiting all this time. I'm_ still _waiting._

Ilya clenched and unclenched her tiny fists and kept walking, stamping out those feelings of longing, that ache, with every step she took. As she did so, she lost herself in the simple exercise and rhythm of the act of walking itself, of the pumping of her heart and her breathing, how invigorating the cold air was in her little lungs.

But then something in the air changed as the wind picked up, colder and harsher. Then it carried the howls of wolves, while shadows darted in amongst the trees.

Ilya's heart skipped a little faster, finding it harder to breathe as fear crept in. Wringing her hands, she stopped and stepped back, uncertain, only realizing too late that she was already surrounded, as she looked behind her to find thin wolves creeping out of the trees into the clearing she'd wandered into, bearing their sharp teeth, dark eyes nothing but voids of hunger.

Even so, fight or flight instinct took hold. Even so, she would not give up. She had to survive. Her father might be dead, but she still had a reason to get to Fuyuki…there was that son, Shirou…she had to live if only to find him, kill him, make him suffer…such a quest to spill blood was all she had left….

She ran.

Made for the first opening she could see and ran.

Even as her legs felt as heavy as they did in any nightmare, even as she began to lose hope as she stumbled through the trees and out into an open field, only to trip and tumble down another snowy hill, where the wolves closed in on her at the bottom. Before she could even attempt to get back to her feet, they were upon her, with their hot breath and their snarling, quivering jaws ready to devour and tear her apart.

One of them caught hold of her nightgown's sleeve, another her soft silver hair. More of them nosed their way towards her, starving and panting to bite flesh. The one that had her by the hair yanked as if to tear her head off. And unlike Irisviel, Ilya still had a long way to go as far as training in the arts of alchemy to fight them off. A grim and unfortunate oversight on Acht's part, but perhaps this was just more his ruthless cruelty… _prove to me you can survive without power like that before I give you the right to learn such things…._

Ilya let out a wail of pain, and cried out as she hadn't done in so very long, not since the early days of Acht experimenting on her. That scream came from the very depths of her heart, where that little girl she used to be was locked up with her tears. That scream said everything that she had tried to banish from herself, an echo of the screams she used to make when waking from her nightmares about Lord Justeaze, crying:

 _"_ _MOMMY! DADDY! HELP ME! PLEASE!"_

Such a raw expression of such things brought on a wave of despairing sobs as she went on screaming for her life.

And then, a great THUD sent all of the wolves running, leaving Ilya lying curled up and shaking in the snow, tears streaming down her face. She dared to look up as a shadow fell across her…and there was Berserker, snorting hotly as usual, more beast than man, his hair as wild and savage as the rest of him.

Yet his eyes…no longer held the empty, pure instinct of a beast. He blinked, as though he were actually a child awakening from a dream, understanding something new, and embracing it. Kiritsugu had looked at her with eyes like that…the day he'd rescued her from falling in the ice, wrapping her up in his coat before placing her in her mother's arms….

Even as her father would one day betray her, she could not forget, not in the deepest part of herself, how the way he would always look at her had made her feel…like she was the most precious thing in the world, a girl to be cherished and protected, and made to feel so very wonderfully happy and loved, regardless that it had all been a lie….

Meanwhile, Ilya could see up higher that the wolves must have come back, for there were two within her sights, perched and clawing on his shoulder, gnawing on his muscular back with all the grit and ferocity they could muster. Yet Berserker didn't even appear to feel such things, remaining stock-still, unflinching, as if the wolves were biting on stone, not flesh. It was as if the wolves were nothing but flies to him. Not even that, maybe.

"Berserker…" she whispered, her voice trembling against her will. "Why…why don't you get away...? Why are you doing this…? I told you to go and leave me…. So why…?"

But Berserker continued to look at her with those eyes, those eyes she realized asked, in their own, simple way: "Are you all right?"

It had been so long since she had received anything that felt like someone caring about her wellbeing…whether it had been sincere or not…back then…it had been…her entire world….

 _Could he…?_

"You don't…want anything…to happen to me…do you…?" Ilya squeaked, and realized that she was quite in awe of Berserker's power. It wasn't even so much scary now, as it was…something to be marveled and appreciated…a power that he _chose_ to use…to protect her, even when she'd sent him away.

"I see." Slowly, Ilya sat up, blinking her tears away as she looked up at her Berserker. Without any effort, and without any pain, she accessed her Magic Circuits and reached out to the Servant shielding her. "Then, Berserker, I order you: destroy them all…NOW!"

Berserker's eyes glowed hotter as he leaned back and let out a mighty roar, unleashing a flash of raw energy that burst forth, destroying only the wolves in its path, safeguarding Ilya as he did so.

When the light dissipated and Ilya could lift up her head to look, those vile wolves were nothing but smears of blood and entrails and fur staining the snow. Some of the blood even smattered on her, but seeing such horrible things was nothing to her anymore. She had felt and seen too many horrible things for it to matter that she was surrounded by gore and death.

She only had eyes for Berserker, as he helped her to her feet. Still in awe of him, and flooded with such warm gratitude she nearly started crying again, she tentatively reached out and touched the back of Berserker's hand. That hand was the size of her head, and her hand comparatively was so very tiny. But she knew then that she had nothing to fear from that hand, or any part of this Servant. The way he looked down at her with those same eyes, focused in their devotion, straightforward in their gentility toward her now the heat of battle had gone from them again, despite his size, he would always treat her with the utmost delicacy and care.

"You protected me, Berserker," she said, feeling the mass of his strength in her very fingertips. "You protected me of your own free will, didn't you?"

The frown in Berserker's brow relaxed, and that was all he gave in response. But it was enough for Ilya to know it meant: "Yes, I did, little one."

The tiny pads of Ilya's tiny fingers trembled to feel such power, and she considered Berserker's hulking massiveness with a kind of soft reverence. "Wow…Berserker…you're so…strong," she mused admiringly. "And for all of that…you just care…about what happens to me." She blinked up at the Servant again, feeling in her very blood and Magic Circuits the bond singing between them so harmoniously and serenely. Knowing such tranquility, as she hadn't in so long, made those tears well up again in her eyes after all, but this time, she couldn't have cared less about holding them back, or whether anyone might see or notice later.

Berserker looked off into the distance, and then gestured with a nod of his head in a specific direction.

"Do you know where the castle is?" Ilya asked.

At Berserker nodding, his eyes brightened to such intelligent clarity as Ilya had not noticed before, Ilya found herself smiling, letting him take her tiny hand in his giant one.

"Then let's go," she said. "Let's go home."

Berserker nodded again, agreeing.

As the two of them walked quietly together through the snowy trees back to the castle, Ilya looked up at him now and then, as he looked straight ahead, never breaking focus. Indeed, no longer did he seem at all frightening to her. Not at all. His strength, in fact, was such a beautiful and magnificent thing. Ilya couldn't help but be humbled and heartened by it.

Then she wondered what he might be thinking, for now she realized that this beastly man did in fact have very human thoughts, even if he was lost in the madness that defined the Berserker Class. No, he wasn't even mad so much, as he had somehow taken that kind of power by the reigns and wrestled it into submission, as well as he'd done in slaying the great Ne Mean Lion, as told in the myths and legends of the hero they called Hercules.

 _Well, even if he won't outright tell me what he's thinking, this is enough for me_ , Ilya thought after a bit of walking beside him, and with some contentment, actually. Perhaps it was because she now experienced a nostalgic recall of what she would always feel when she'd been littler, walking beside her parents this way…

…her mother, swinging her arm playfully…

…her father, smiling down at her as he walked beside her much in the way Berserker was doing now, with such strength…strength with which she had once believed he would always keep her, his little girl, safe….

Here was Berserker, taking up that mantle, in a way.

Except….

"Berserker," she piped up.

Berserker made a low grunt of acknowledgement, but it was gentle in its nature.

Ilya gave Berserker's hand a small squeeze of encouragement, supplication. "Can you…would you…pick me up and carry me…? Maybe on your shoulders…?"

And there was that terrible ache again, before she could defend herself against it, a fleeting recollection of so many days, traipsing through the snow with Kiritsugu like this, when suddenly—

 _"_ _Look out, Ilya, I've…got you!" Kiritsugu exclaimed quite suddenly, and before Ilya knew it, he was scooping her up into his arms from behind, lifting her high, sending Ilya into squealing giggles, as she kicked her legs and made mock protests before insisting that he perch her on his shoulders, whereupon he would happily oblige her._

 _"_ _Now giddy up, horsey!" she called. "Off we go, Kerry, to defeat the Wizard of Sorrow!"_

 _"_ _As you wish, your highness!" Kiritsugu exclaimed, beaming and then ducking into the trees, capering like the horse he was pretending to be, sharing in Ilya's laughter…._

But Berserker only glanced at her sidelong before pressing onward. Yet something about the way he didn't scoop her up like she wanted didn't feel like rejection to Ilya, so much as though he were…refraining out of some kind of respect…like he knew…who she really wanted to lift her up and carry her…and it wasn't him.

Still, Ilya squeezed Berserker's hand again, and she could feel that he could tell without her having to speak aloud that that gesture said: "It's okay. I understand. This is fine. I'm happy, just like this."

And that sense of contentment settled between the two of them again, as they ambled on through the snow. It didn't matter that all of this was calling back to Ilya's mind things she'd rather forget since now they only caused her pain. Having Berserker at her side this way, with how it was suddenly so comforting, so reassuring, that was a remedy unto itself. Ilya felt that bond between them grow stronger with every step they took back to the castle, and it made her feel that, just for now, when it was just the two of them, she could afford to indulge herself in pretending, just for a little, that she could be that small, happy girl again, loved and protected.

That, and hope, as she had not dared to let herself feel in so very long either.

She looked up at Berserker again, and it didn't hurt so much to let her mouth quirk into a grin, just a little, and so gently.

Yes…with Berserker by her side like this…no matter what happened, despite the grim fate that awaited her…she would claim victory in this Fifth Grail War…punish Kiritsugu by making the son he had abandoned her for suffer…and maybe…just maybe…she might actually be able to reach the end of her tiny, emptied life with a genuine smile on her lips.

From now on, the lamb once again had a shepherd she could trust.


	6. Strong Lamb

**Chapter Six**

 **Strong Lamb**

Ilya wasn't sleeping well of late. If she wasn't revisiting that horrible nightmare from her childhood about Lord Justeaz and the seven gigantic lumps coming into her body and tearing her apart, it would be a dream about her father.

She kept screaming and screaming for him, but he didn't seem to see her, looking in every direction, even turning away from her, without realizing she was right there in front of him. Yet, he was turning his head, answering her cries, calling out her name, as if he was looking for her but couldn't find her, which only made her scream his name louder, and try to run towards him even as her legs were too heavy to carry her forward.

And then her mother would appear before them both, and Kiritsugu would pause, as would Ilya. Then Irisviel would hold out her hand to Kiritsugu, and Kiritsugu would take it and follow her into the white light beyond, even as she smiled lovingly at Ilya over Kiritsugu's shoulder.

 _"_ _Everything will be all right, my love…."_

 _"_ _No…Mama…he betrayed us…Mama…Mama…DADDY!"_

After that, they were both gone, leaving Ilya alone and crying…crying the way she hadn't in years while awake. Certainly, when she would blink open her eyes, there would be tears there, but she would wipe them away with the back of her hand, rather than give in to openly weeping.

Though these dreams repeated, in waking, much of their details always faded away, like sand washed away with the flowing tide. She would recall the feeling quite sharply though, even as she denied her tears. Beyond anything though, she would always be frustrated that her father's face would fade into the most obscurity: had he looked scared for her in the dream, had he really been calling for her until his voice was raw?

It was like that day Nele had taken her out, and she had thought she had heard him calling for her in the snow. Elke had convinced her it had all been a trick, but there was still a part of her, deep, deep inside, that tried to tell her that really, she could never be sure what had really happened that day. After all, perhaps the reason she had felt such a killing hatred for Elke (an impulse upon which she'd eventually acted) had been because she could have easily been the one lying. On the other hand, this could all just be that weak part of her that wanted a reason to still love him, to believe that there had been a damn good reason he hadn't come back for her.

That was the part of her that made her have those awful dreams of her calling to him, and him not being able to see her.

The fact remained however that Kiritsugu had left her mother to die and had abandoned her, his only daughter, for a young boy named Shirou…betrayals she could not forgive. All Ilya had left was to count the days until she could go to the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, find this Shirou, and force him to tell her everything before letting Berserker crush him with the flat of his club-like blade.

Actually, she would have dreams about him too. She didn't know what he looked like, so she imagined him a little differently every time. More or less she settled on what she conjectured as a boyish, younger version of her father, for lack of anything else to go on, and in these dreams she slept very well indeed, relishing in the look of terror in the boy's eyes, the stain of his blood on the ground, his pleading cries, the surging, roaring hope inside her that Kiritsugu would be able to see all of this and would be suffering for it.

For all the discomfort this trouble with her sleep caused her, Ilya did have the consolation that every day she awoke, whether she slept well or not, Berserker would greet her while remaining in Spirit Form, and then Leysritt and Sella would be there with a hot cup of tea for her. Made just the way she liked it. The way Irisviel had liked it.

Ilya, sat up in bed, set her cup on the saucer after taking a sip with a high, subtle _click_ unique to bone china hitting bone china. "So. What do we have as our first order of business today?"

"Your grandfather has a gift for you," Sella informed her, and Leysritt, who this morning had arrived with an additional rolling cart covered with a white cloth along with the tea, pushed this cart closer to her.

Sella drew off the cloth, revealing a crystal ball underneath.

Ilya's hands went a little slack and she hastily set aside her tea and crawled across her bed to have a closer look, in awe of the beautiful clarity of the crystal ball.

"It is a remote-viewing crystal ball, a tool for surveillance of your enemies," Sella explained. "Grandfather Acht has one of his own for his personal use, such that we might gather the information we have from developments in Fuyuki City. But this one...belonged to your mother. Or rather, she used it in the course of the Fourth War. At least, that's what we're given to understand." She cast an uncertain glance Leysritt's way, but Leysritt only shrugged.

"How does it work?" Ilya asked, tracing the glassy curve of the crystal ball with her finger.

"From what I understand, it uses mana stored within to project images inside it that the Mage wielding it wishes to remotely view, hence the name," answered Sella.

Ilya sensed a grumble come from Berserker from his position in Spirit Form (his material presence made Leysritt and Sella uncomfortable, and Ilya had decided for some reason to be considerate of that, perhaps because she kept thinking achingly of her mother now whenever she considered Leysritt and Sella's faces—the fact that such soft spots still resided in her made her bite her thumb when she thought it over in the dark).

Then Ilya had a thought, and she said: "Let me try it out." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, scooting closer to the crystal ball that sat deceptively quiet and beautiful—much like the moon—and as she raised her hands over it, an image—well, more a desire, since she didn't know what the image she wanted actually looked like—came to mind.

 _I want to see...Shirou Emiya._

The swirling colors within the crystal ball sprang into movement and wavered, before resolving into an image encircled by cloudy pinks, blues, and violets. The image was blurred at first, but then it focused, like a lens, and Ilya found herself face-to-face with a young boy who was technically younger than her in years but physically looked a few years older, one in his mid-teens, or nearly so. He had bright red hair and surveyed a pile of metal junk before him with golden-brown eyes. He had on a light brown uniform of some kind, and he appeared to be in some room whose specs were unfamiliar to Ilya, though she suspected it was something like those "classrooms" she'd read about being in "schools". He was sitting cross-legged on the floor while he tinkered with the junk, appearing to feel along the metal surfaces with his hands as he closed his eyes in order to focus.

Was he tapping into his Magic Circuits? And for what, a bunch of modern day, non-mage junk? Kiritsugu had taken this boy in, and produced nothing but a mediocre novice out of him? Good gracious, killing this boy would be almost too easy, especially with Berserker. What would even be the likelihood that he'd be chosen as a Master in the next War?

Well, Ilya couldn't dwell on that. Anyway, even if he wasn't, she still intended to kill him, to make him suffer. Whether he would be chosen as a Master was irrelevant, though if he were, it _would_ make things more interesting.

Ilya traced the curve of the crystal ball with her finger again, letting the tip pass over the likeness of this Shirou Emiya's face. Her mouth twitched into a truly wicked smile, in that she was indulging herself in thoughts of what she would do to this boy. Now that she had a face to go with the name, her imagination became all the more vivid as far as coming up with creative ways to cause him pain without having him immediately die on her…make him squirm and cry out under her metaphorical boot as she drilled question after question into him like she were twisting knives into his back….

 _Your father, Kiritsugu, what was he like when he died?_

 _Was he in pain?_

 _Did he tell you about me?_

 _What all did he teach you that you turned out so pathetic?_

 _Why did he choose you…over me…?_

Ilya raised the thumb of her free hand to her lips and bit the tip, thoughtfully, impatiently, as she watched Shirou Emiya open his eyes again and then proceed to pry open the junky appliance—or whatever those things were called—and start messing with its insides, its guts. Another brief thought occurred to her as she watched him, wondering if she might be able to do the exact same thing to him…open him up and fiddle with his insides, screw in sharp things that didn't belong in a human body.

Her smile widened, even as she knew her red eyes were clouding over pensively. Faintly she heard something like her mother's voice niggling at the back of her mind, pleadingly, and she ignored it. Why shouldn't she have such vicious thoughts, and contemplate doing such horrible things to this boy for whom Kiritsugu had abandoned her, betrayed her and her dear mother? It wasn't really that much worse than what she'd been forced to undergo…crying out in the dark for her father to rescue her, even when she knew no help from him would come, in the end.

She would make Shirou Emiya cry for Kiritsugu the same way, cry for him even though he was dead and gone.

Ilya could have spent all day pondering such things while she studied Shirou Emiya's movements, with him none the wiser, but Sella cleared her throat, and Leysritt helpfully added in her voice that still halted somewhat ineptly, despite recent improvements: "Ilya…can use this…to watch…the…other Masters…in the War…if we…discover their…identity."

Ilya flicked her eyes in Leysritt's direction, raising her eyebrows coolly. "Yes, I suppose so," she said with a shrug of one shoulder. And then she sighed and gently pushed the crystal ball away so she could slide off of her bed. Flinging her arms out like a bird about to take flight, she added, "It's time I got dressed."

As she was dressed, a faint and vague memory bubbled to the surface of her mind, that when she'd been little, she'd been fixated on the idea of pretending that she could fly, and she would giggle brightly whenever Kiritsugu would lift her up so that could imagine it even better.

Then she caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror, and, noted that she had in fact grown just a little more. As such, being pleased to notice such a thing, there was something about her red eyes that no longer reminded her of her mother as they once did. Actually, her eyes had never been quite exactly like her mother's. They shared the same crimson color of course, as Einzbern homunculi, but…the way they were set in her small face (which had grown out of its childish roundness) hinted at the Japanese half of her heritage that she shared with Kiritsugu Emiya.

Did Acht always see that man then, when he met Ilya's eyes?

And now they possessed a bleak and focused coldness, where no joy ever reached anymore, not even when she smiled.

A killer's eyes.

 _"_ _Oh, Ilya, what lovely eyes you have," said Irisviel as she brushed out her daughter's hair, the two of them sitting together at her vanity._

 _"_ _They're just like yours, mama!" said Ilya, beaming._

 _"_ _Yes, but they're a little like your Daddy's too," Irisviel pointed out. "Maybe you can't see it right now, but when you're older you might."_

 _Ilya tilted her head to one side. "Eh?"_

 _Irisviel moved the brush with her daughter's head and smoothed out several silvery strands gently, tenderly. "I saw it the moment you were born," she mused, her voice throbbing with affection. "And your daddy, he was so proud. I said to him, 'Look, Kiritsugu, she has your eyes….' We were_ both _so proud of you. And we always will be."_

 _Ilya didn't quite understand everything her mother said, but she knew it expressed deep love for her, and that was enough. She giggled and twisted in the vanity chair, throwing her small arms around her mother, hugging her tight, breathing in that lovely scent that Kiritsugu always said was like the iris flower. And Irisviel stroked back her hair, sharing in her laughter._

 _"_ _My sweet little Ilya…."_

Berserker gave another low grumble, a grumble only Ilya could hear as his Master. It awoke Ilya from her reverie, as he gave voice to her anger. For he, Berserker, embodied all the violence and rage that she couldn't manage to express on her own with a body that was, for all it had grown, still rather tiny compared to most.

 _It's okay, Berserker. I'm fine._

Blinking rapidly, Ilya quickly shook off the memory before her weakness consumed her, before the ghosts possessed her, and, looking away from the mirror, she turned her mind to other things.

* * *

Now that Ilya had rather proven herself in being able to form a binding pact with Berserker, she had earned the right to at last learn such alchemy that would allow her to defend herself and fight for herself in the battles of the War to come. Actually, she was quite genuinely pleased to learn such alchemy, made fully aware that her mother had learned the same thing (if far sooner in her lifespan).

Perhaps part of it had to do with being in Berserker's company in the leisure time she would spend prattling away while poring over books in the library while he'd listen in Spirit Form, and the like. But such things like learning how to fight just as her mother had gave her the kind of true joy she had forgotten she could still feel. At the very least, a whisper of it. She didn't dare allow herself to feel it too much. If she did, then other feelings she'd cast aside might interfere, and might debilitate the defense she had built against weaknesses of the heart. Against sentiment.

Even so, the smile she wore now as Sella did her best to translate to her the teachings of using her own hair to create familiars, just as Irisviel had done, was the closest in a long time that it had come to actually reaching her bright red eyes.

"You see, you must pronounce the cant with conviction, as you are drawing the strand of hair from your head," Sella told her as they worked in the library. "Do you recall what I told you that cant was?"

"'Shape ist Leben'," Ilya recited flawlessly.

"Very good." Sella clapped, in spite of herself. "Now, let's give it a practical try."

Ilya took a deep breath and let it out. Then reached up, keeping her movements fluid and quick, as she cried, " _Shape ist Leben_!"

She pulled a silver hair from her head, and though it sprang into the air rather like a bird, something that still quavered in Ilya's voice caused the shape she had pictured in her mind for it to make to falter, and instead of becoming the starling she had imagined from a photo in one of her old books, it crumpled in midair and dropped, floating to the ground and landing in a silvery, faintly glowing heap on the carpet. It twitched once, and then went still, the light fading.

Ilya frowned at it, and had she been younger and the spritely, joyful girl she'd once been, she probably would've pouted too. Here however, she was quite serious in her disappointment. Then a thought nettled her, one of those "if onlys"…that _if only_ it was her mother who was teaching her these things…and then…if it were…she'd be so disappointed in her lack of success thus far.

Even more than that though, but she even briefly conjured an image of her father looking down on her with a shadowed expression of dissatisfaction, disapproval even, much in the way Grandfather Acht would regard her at times, or any one of his other homunculi children. This was something she had never encountered with Kiritsugu in the time he had been in her life.

Why? Why would she care what he might have thought of her capabilities as a Master, as a fighter?

Regardless, she felt the vision hang over her like a specter, like a phantasm. His dark eyes, for a moment, seething with censure, frightened her perhaps even more than any of those times when he would discipline her as a smaller, more willful child. It was surprising though, because even back then, it had never occurred to her, really, until this moment now, when she was just imaging him regarding her almost as an annoyance, that her father had been, at times, a very frightening person.

Back then, her mother had been there, just as firm with her whenever her behavior had gotten out of hand, and after a tantrum of tears and kicking out with her small legs, she would eventually calm down and somewhat see the sense her parents had been trying to help her see. And in acquiescing, they had always praised her with their loving pride in her, the warmth of sunlight shot through a dark, cold winter storm.

Now, however…just what kind of person had Kiritsugu Emiya really been? To Ilya, he had always been her father, first and foremost, and even after everything she had suffered in his abandonment and betrayal of her since then, she began to wonder all the more…what kind of cruelty had he kept hidden from her and her mother?

Grandfather had said that Kiritsugu had once been called "the Mage Killer" after all.

Irisviel had told her that she and Kiritsugu had both been so proud when she'd been born. Had that really carried on throughout her tiny life so far?

No. That didn't matter. What mattered was that she would prove herself worthy, and as far as she was concerned, she would curse Kiritsugu Emiya's spirit in death, praying it'd been damned to Hell. She just couldn't punish him enough.

Ilya's frown deepened. "Again," she commanded.

"Very well." Sella primly swept away the hair that had fallen limp and useless to the floor with a small broom and dustpan.

Ilya cleared her throat and prepared to pluck another hair, focusing on performing each and every action with calculated conviction. " _SHAPE IST LEBEN_!" she cried, keeping the bright vision of a starling clear and sharp in her mind. She cast the plucked hair into the air, the cant illuminating it to life, where it began to take the shape of the starling in her head and, thus born, flapped its wings as the autonomous familiar that it was, whereupon it zoomed in three circles around the library before it ran out of steam and faded, crumpling to the floor.

Sella clapped, giving another cry of delighted praise, but Ilya merely growled and tried again, working at it for the rest of the morning. Nearby, she could hear Berserker grumbling, and rather argumentatively at that: the only way he could express concern that she might overexert herself. Indeed, around noon, Ilya felt as though she'd been running around non-stop for an extended length of time.

Once she caught her breath though, she gave Berserker the reassurance that she would be fine. Then she said, "I think it's time we broke for the day."

After Ilya had had a few cups of tea and a little something to eat, she felt a bit better. Not to mention accomplished, as by the end of the work, she had managed to forge a starling familiar from her hair that did not deplete on its own, but only when she recalled it to her and returned the hair to its original shape. Having reached this level, it gave her confidence that she would be able to move on and master the subsequent levels, like directing the familiars in battle, and changing the hair into several different forms during the course of a single fight, with each form having unique combat abilities of their own.

She mused on this as she took her respite, and after Leysritt cleared away the dishes from her tea and small repast, she turned her thoughts to what she would spend her afternoon doing. Afternoons were always given to her as personal time, though often of late she would use the afternoon to devote herself to something useful that would contribute in a minor way to her capabilities as a Master.

Today, she felt like exercising her strategic skills, and her eyes fell on an old chess set, the pieces carved from black and white marbles for each opposing side. Fuzzily she remembered that her parents used to play the game with each other using that very same set. She supposed Elder Acht might have one of his own, but this one…Kiritsugu and Irisviel had unofficially claimed it as their own. Before the two of them had left to answer the call of the Fourth Holy Grail War, Ilya had expressed an interest in learning the game, so Kiritsugu had taken her through a game to teach her the rules.

And like those many times they'd played their walnut game, and unlike those times he would purposely allow her to win anything, in that game of chess, he rather ruthlessly crushed her. He had played his usual set of black marble pieces, and she the white marble pieces Irisviel usually played, and her father had shown her no mercy. At the time, Ilya had puffed out her cheeks in frustration, but now she appreciated the loss, somehow. Thinking about the memory itself brightened it in her mind, the two of them sitting together at this very library table, playing with that set.

 _"_ _And that's check and mate," Kiritsugu proclaimed, and knocked aside Ilya's king with his queen very directly._

 _"_ _But…but…but…." Ilya desperately tried to find a way that her father might have missed that she might have a chance to save her king and escape to fight another day, as it were. When she saw none, she pouted, just shy of knocking all the pieces to the floor—she had learned better, by then._

 _As Ilya huffed and sat back in her chair with her arms folded, Kiritsugu chuckled softly as he began to collect the pieces and return them to their starting positions on the board._

 _"_ _Now, now. That wasn't a bad first effort, Ilya. I'm proud of you. And next time, perhaps you just might beat me." Her father winked._

 _This tugged a smile out of Ilya, only for her to turn crestfallen when she realized that she would have to wait until he returned from Japan in order for there to be a next time. But he said it like it was so naturally guaranteed, that she hadn't worried on it for too long._

 _"_ _And if Ilya does? Does that mean she's smarter than Kiritsugu?"_

 _"_ _No, it would take more than that."_

 _As Ilya deflated again, Kiritsugu gently added: "But I don't see why that couldn't be true someday. After all, you're already very smart."_

Now Ilya chewed on her thumbnail before she turned to Sella with a rather wicked grin on her face. "Sella? Would you care to let me teach you how play chess? I've only really played it the once myself, but I think we can manage."

Sella blinked, and Ilya relished even more the ability to make her squirm, even like this.

"Ah, well, yes, of course. I would be more than happy to, Mistress." Sella cleared her throat while Leysritt, carrying the dishes out, gaped in in her usual vacant puzzlement.

Sella turned out to be a frustrating opponent to say the least. Not that she didn't grasp the rules well enough, but once she did, there were a number of wins Ilya had that she felt she didn't earn, getting the sense that Sella was _letting_ her win instead out of some misplaced sense of her subservience.

Definitely Kiritsugu was the far superior opponent, challenging her. Perhaps even preparing her….

No. No, he hadn't cared whether she were to end up in this stupid Grail War or not. He wouldn't have betrayed her if he had.

Still, she had to appreciate that much from him.

Fed up, Ilya knocked her king over with a flick of her finger. She had played the black pieces instead, to change things up, and the black king now lay beside the vanquished white king.

"There, now we're even," she grouched.

"Mistress, I don't see…" Sella began.

Ilya waved her words away. "Forget it. I've had enough. You can go."

The rest of the afternoon, Ilya spent reading, and now that she and Berserker were the only ones in the room, she permitted him to materialize from Spirit Form, and, despite his being in the Class that he was, it had been clear from the start that he had clarity of mind, more or less…so Ilya invited him to read whatever books he wished. Though she couldn't be sure if he really read, or if he was just humoring her to keep her company.

Either way, it was nice, the two of them stretched out on the floor, poring quietly over books while the fire in the fireplace crackled. Ilya, for her part (in between throwing little torn bits of paper at Berserker and giggling at how it didn't even phase him), tried to brush up on more strategizing techniques, even going so far as to read a book on the philosophies of game hunting. At some point she fell asleep over the book, and had a vague dream different from all of her other ones, where she was chasing Shirou Emiya through the formless streets of Fuyuki City, perched as she was on Berserker's shoulder, pursuing her quarry as a bloodhound pursues a rabbit.

When she woke up, she discovered that Berserker had managed to carry her from the library up to her room, and she smiled, finding him there, waiting for her to wake up…

 _Just like Mama…and Daddy…._

Ilya threw a punch at her pillow and sat up, stretching and yawning, before hopping out and tugging the bell pull rope for Leysritt to run her a bath before dinner.

After her post-dinner, daily presentation and report to Acht, she returned to her rooms and asked to view the crystal ball again. In the gloom, her lamp and the lit fireplace her only sources of light, she watched Shirou Emiya again…watched him, knowing how hungry her red eyes were, how they bored into the polished, glassy, spherical surface of the crystal ball, hoping Shirou might feel some kind of twin sting on the back of his neck from how intently Ilya was watching him.

At the moment, he was speaking with a young woman with brown hair cut short, a woman Ilya of course didn't know. The woman was saying, "Come on, Shirou…it's been four years now. Look, we can go together. It'll be okay."

"Thanks, Fuji-nee, but…I'm really busy, what with archery and everything…." Shirou massaged the back of his neck.

The woman Shirou had called "Fuji-nee" lost a bit of her smile, turning sad. "I know he'd really appreciate it."

Shirou looked away, mumbling, "How can he appreciate anything if he's dead?"

"His _spirit_ , Shirou," Fuji-nee pressed. "Kiritsugu Emiya would really appreciate it if his son were to visit, burn incense, put flowers on his grave. I think he gets so lonely…."

"He's not there, Fuji-nee," said Shirou, quietly, though he looked ashamed for putting it that way. "I'm sorry."

Then before Fuji-nee could say anything else, he turned away, shutting the sliding paper door to an adjoining room. Then she shook her head, smiling again, even if she still seemed sad. "What am I gonna do with him, Kiritsugu-san?" she muttered under her breath before leaving the room through another sliding paper door.

 _Kiritsugu's…grave…where they buried him…when he died…._

 _When he died…._

Cold drips of water ran down Ilya's cheeks, catching her off-guard. As she wiped hastily at the tears, she glared at the crystal ball again, and fought the impulse to shove it off the table onto the floor.

Berserker lifted his head from where he sat next to her on her bed (somehow not breaking it), making a small grumble of surprise at her shift in behavior.

Ilya crawled over to him and said, "Berserker…I'm so…. You understand, what it's like, to be so angry you want to destroy everything around you…don't you?"

Berserker grunted, nodding.

"And you're so strong. Stronger than anyone or anything. I'll always say it."

Another grunt, another nod.

"Good."

Then Ilya pounded her little fists on Berserker's rock-like arm. And before she knew it, she was shrieking and wailing and throwing the kind of fit that she would've thrown as a toddler.

"Punish him, Berserker. You have to punish him…kill Shirou Emiya and punish Kiritsugu for what he's done…for running away and dying and making Ilya cry…!"

She'd reverted, just for the moment, to the tiny girl she'd once been, and cried and cried and cried—cried for her mother, used and abandoned to her pointless death after all the joy she had brought her precious daughter, cried for the father she had lost in Kiritsugu, who, despite everything, had truly made Ilya very happy with everything he had done with her when he'd been in her life, and even crying…for herself…abandoned to the same grim fate as her mother, with nothing but revenge to give her any kind of hope. Then she ceased her fist-pounding and buried her face in Berserker's rock-hard chest. It was so warm and comforting, she simply couldn't help it.

Even so, Berserker placed his hand gently on her back—which, considering its size it basically covered her entire little body—and kept it there, a shield for her from all the cruelty beyond them.

Feeling such warmth, Ilya calmed down and managed a watery smile, sniffling and running the sleeve of her nightdress across her eyes. "Thanks, Berserker," she told him sincerely. "You're the best."

Something flickered in the quiet, ever-burning flame of Berserker's eyes, and his mouth twitched as he grunted again…as though he were actually smiling. Very carefully, he moved his hand to tuck a finger under her chin (which was a lot like tucking a large boulder underneath it), as if to say, "You're strong too, Ilya."

And once again, Ilya carefully gave Berserker her trust.

The following day, Ilya and Sella worked on combat training outside once she'd eaten her breakfast, and then, after lunch, she went back outside and played with Berserker amongst the snowy trees. Since Berserker wasn't much for hunting for walnuts or anything like that, Ilya was just as content to frolic about in her purple boots, coat, scarf, and hat, her arms flung out like she were flying, just as she'd liked to do when she'd been littler.

"Bet you can't catch meeeeeeeeeee!" she teased Berserker.

Although Berserker had not, as yet, indulged with her with scooping her up into his arms as she always secretly hoped he would, he did eventually play along, step forward, reach out, pluck her off the ground, and perch her on his left shoulder.

Ilya supposed this would have to do for now.

"Giddy up, horsey!" she called, throwing out an arm, directing Berserker forward.

And Berserker followed her lead, carrying her on his shoulder through the winter forest, just like she and Kiritsugu used to do, when he would carry her on _his_ shoulders…what felt like so many years ago.


	7. Shadow of the Lamb

**Chapter Seven**

 **Shadow of the Lamb**

Maybe it was because it was in her blood, but learning the Japanese language as a non-native was not as difficult as texts Ilya had read on the subject would have her believe. Certainly there was the added matter of learning the different alphabets on top of the grammatical structure- _kanji_ , _katakana_ , and _hiragana_ —but Ilya had a knack for committing things well to memory.

Even pronunciation wasn't all that difficult, as she worked it around her German mouth and tongue.

As she read certain words aloud to herself, she somehow felt like she could hear her father's soft voice whisper them in her ear, and recalled bits and pieces of moments when he would speak the language to her mother, usually in a gentle, loving tone.

It made her angry to think that speaking to Irisviel in his native language like that might have made her feel special when in truth he had been using such things as tactics for deceit. But her anger was purely cold now, and somehow it served to rise to the challenge of learning Japanese to the point of fluency, the words and phrases rolling easily off her tongue.

" _Konbanwa_ ," she read, the _hiragana_ written before her in her book. "That means 'good evening' in German," she added to Berserker. That phrase was actually kind of fun to say, and a very faint chuckle escaped Ilya's lips.

Berserker lifted his head up from where he'd been looking out of her bedroom window, strangely lost in thought. Ilya always speculated what kind of memories he was losing himself in, preferring to leave it up to her imagination and what she knew about him as the heroic spirit of Heracles, rather than asking him. Things like how the goddess Hera, Zeus' wife, had tried and failed to kill him off as another one of Zeus' offspring born from another woman, or how in his childhood he had savagely beat his harp teacher to death over a small matter. She figured if he ever wanted to share with her, he'd share with her in time, in his own way. For herself, pondering such things made her think of things like those horrible nightmares and visions she'd had of her father blowing her head off with a gun, or the day she came up behind Elke and stabbed her to death. In any case, it seemed that Berserker's biggest concern was the sum of all of _her_ concerns, and the spoiled part of Ilya couldn't help but enjoy and relish in that.

Outside it was snowing, but peacefully, coming down in big, fat, quiet flakes.

Ilya, laying out on her stomach on her bedroom floor with the book on learning Japanese open in front of her, swinging her legs aimlessly behind her and propping herself up on her elbows, her chin cupped in her hands, smiled affectionately at Berserker. It felt so nice, so warm, to be able to feel something like that again. And only she could tell by the way that Berserker was looking at her now that he was in fact smiling fondly back at her. Anyone else looking would've just seen a scowl.

"I like it when it snows like this," she told him. "You know, the Japanese actually have two words for snowflake. One is really plain and straight, just ' _seppen_ '. Or there's ' _sunofureku_ ', but I think that's something called 'Hepburn'….. I dunno, it has to do with Japanese-sounding English words, or something. But then…there's also, ' _hana no yuki_ ', which literally means, 'snow flower'. I mean…snowflakes do look like flowers up close…."

A memory drifted in, one where her father himself had told her this, claiming he had also told her mother this when he had been teaching her Japanese before Ilya had been born.

 _Kiritsugu held out the finger of one black-gloved hand, balancing the fragile snowflake that was already melting. "See, Ilya? Quick, before it's gone. Doesn't it look like a flower?"_

 _Ilya examined the snowflake and her red eyes widened in such pure wonder. "Ah, it does! That's so pretty, Daddy!"_

 _Kiritsugu laughed, and then the flake melted into the leather of his glove and disappeared, nothing more than a water droplet now. "And you know, Ilya, they say that no two snowflakes are alike."_

 _"_ _Oh?" Ilya thought about that. "That must make them really precious then, since they're so pretty."_

 _"_ _Indeed, it does." And Kiritsugu reached up and gently brushed his knuckles against her soft cheek, as he looked at her with that expression of affection he would sometimes give her that would appear so earnest, like it was one of those things where he was so happy he might start crying._

 _But of course, he never did actually cry._

 _He might look sad sometimes when he didn't know Ilya was watching him, but he had never shed a single tear in front of her…._

Ilya shook her head vigorously, curling her small hands into fists. "Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it."

Berserker made a low growl deep in his throat, one Ilya recognized as one of an expression of concern for her. It was his way of asking her if something was wrong with her.

At this, Ilya stopped and heaved a sigh before she forced a smile for him. "It's fine, Berserker. I just felt weak for a moment." But then she lowered her eyes to her book and said, more to herself, "It's like his ghost is trying to torment me. Even when he's dead, he makes Ilya suffer." She bit her lip hard, willing herself not to let her splintered heart crumble.

However, in the end, the only way she was really able to recover was to do what she always did when things like this came up. Slamming the textbook shut, she leapt to her feet and rushed to Berserker's side, hopping up onto his lap the way she would hop up onto her mother's and beg her for a story.

"I think that's enough Japanese lessons for today," Ilya proclaimed, in the brightest, sunniest voice she could muster as she swung her legs again. "Let's play a different game. Okay?"

Berserker looked at her patiently and then nodded, setting her on her feet before rising to his own.

Then Ilya led him by the fist and the two of them left her bedroom, seeking Leysritt or Sella to see about getting her coat, hat, scarf, and boots so the two of them could go outside.

* * *

The last two months had gone on this way for Ilya, filling her days with study and bonding ever closer with Berserker. She was not so abandoned in her heart that she could not appreciate these days spent as they were for the gifts that they were before she would have to go and meet her fate. There were still moments though where it surprised her that her heart was not so abandoned as she'd thought, left behind as she was by everyone she had loved before Berserker.

Actually, even Leysritt and Sella had their moments.

In some ways, Ilya favored Leysritt over Sella, but only slightly. The edge Leysritt had was that her continued difficulty with speaking gave her this innocent naivety that Ilya was drawn to, as if she had found someone who was just as broken as she was, if not more so. Sella on the other hand did come off as a know-it-all sometimes, but Ilya still would choose her a thousand times over that damned Elke. Because for all of the things about Sella that would get under Ilya's skin, it became clear to Ilya that Sella—like Leysritt—sincerely cared for her well-being, in the end, when she realized that rather than fight her on everything, they did their best to embrace her personality as it was, even at its most troublesome and mischievous.

For Ilya managed to find another kind of small and precious joy in the way she'd play tricks on them, like swapping their buckets of mop water with the second pot of tea she would ask for at breakfast just for that reason, or even getting Leysritt to turn the flowers upside down in their vases, only for Sella to demand why they were like that and for Leysritt to act like she had no idea, while Ilya giggled in the shadows.

It had been so long since she had done anything like play.

At night, when she fell deep into thought, her mind would circle back to her father and mother against her will, and the hazy memories she had of the games they would play. It helped to nurture and maintain her bitterness towards Kiritsugu though when she made herself remember also how often he would cheat at their special walnut game. Thinking on that, she almost felt like she should have known better in more ways than one what kind of person he had really been all along, and so her mother should have too.

But nothing could change what was already in the past.

Then she'd start musing about Shirou Emiya, and strangely she would wonder about what kind of games he might like to play, and her ideas would flicker back and forth between visions of innocent play and excruciating torture. Really, it was quite fitting, as the Holy Grail War was very much a war, rife with blood and pain, but it was also a game…the last game that Ilya would play.

She would have to make the most of it, when she took her revenge at last on the son for whom her father had abandoned her.

* * *

At some point, time had seemed to suddenly pick up its pace as the day to leave for Japan drew nearer and nearer. But that didn't stop Ilya from acting on her impulses when she had the opportunity, and one day she found herself eager to take her mother's old car, the Mercedes-Benz 300SL, out for a spin.

Even though she'd inherited it upon her mother's death, she'd been far too small then to attempt driving it. Now that she'd grown taller, she could at least see out over the dashboard, and as far as having legs long enough to reach the pedals, well, she'd had extensions installed on them as soon as she was able. Unlike her mother though, she'd had no one to actually teach her the fundamentals of driving. The most she could lay claim to was that apparently her parents would sometimes take her with them in the car when they'd drive around together, but that had been when she'd been very little, and she'd never done anything like touch the steering wheel or the shift, she'd just been sat in either her mother's or her father's lap in the front passenger seat.

But she did extensive reading on the practice beforehand. Needless to say, the Einzberns had had to spend much on repairs for the Mercedes-Benz 300SL in those early days of her teaching herself the practicals of driving. Nowadays though, she could manage making crooked zigzags around the same courtyard her mother herself would zoom around in whenever she'd wanted to drive on her own. And according to Irisviel, this had been her most treasured toy that Kiritsugu had given to her.

So it was that Ilya decided to take the car out for another little drive around.

"I still think you risk far too much in this foolishness." Sella, as usual, gave her sour and confrontational opinion.

And that was to be expected. Like mages, homunculi too it seemed were instilled with a natural abhorrence to electronics and "modern contraptions". Except for Irisviel, who had learned to embrace them because of her husband igniting a curiosity about them within her, and Ilya, who was her parents' daughter.

But Ilya, with her usual proclivity towards rebelliousness, merely grinned and tapped the side of the car with her mittened fist. "It's my toy, I can do what I want with it," as if that were a satisfactory enough reason. And then, for good measure, she did something she hadn't done in years and stuck her tongue out at Sella.

Leysritt, standing quiet as usual behind Sella, made a sound like a snicker, expressing a rare moment of genuine amusement, breaking from her usual tone of unpracticed human habits.

Feeling she had won (she usually did anyway), Ilya pulled open the driver's door and hopped into the car. Sella handed her the keys with a defeated sigh. When Ilya started up the engine, Sella and Leysritt stepped aside to allow her to back out of the little stable converted into a garage and into the courtyard.

Taking the wheel, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, Ilya made her usual wide sweeps, something inside her giving way to a reckless abandon. Like a caged bird finally allowed to fly around outside.

Maybe that was why her mother had liked driving so much….

Spinning in the Mercedes-Benz as she was, she created a sort of automobile dance out of all of it, like the car were doing pirouettes in the snow. She even enjoyed the sprays of snow powder she caught sight of in the mirrors, and fantasized for a moment that she was like one of those action heroes on the covers of one of those old movies Kiritsugu had had for Irisviel to watch. It instilled her with a rare moment of feeling more grown-up, and less like a child, being able to drive around as she pleased this way. Here, she was briefly able to take her life by the reins and steer it how _she_ wanted. And at the same time, she felt power in how fluidly she was able to shift gears and turn the wheel to maneuver the vehicle without hitting a thing. She had honed her skills of hand-eye coordination, and could act in mere moments in order to avoid accidents that she used to get into quite often when she'd first been learning to drive. The fact that she had taught this herself made her feel even more accomplished.

When at last she halted the Mercedes-Benz and twisted around in the seat to survey her handiwork of tire track patterns in the snow, she gave a kind of nod of self-approval and self-satisfaction. This, more than anything, gave her the sense that she was truly ready for what lay ahead of her.

And with that, she faced forward again and put the car in reverse to turn it around and return it to the garage.

* * *

When Ilya descended into the Alchemy Chamber for the very last time her grandfather would cut her open and examine the branching clusters of Magic Circuits that spread throughout her body, she didn't quite know what to feel. Logically she should be glad that she would no longer have to endure this after this last session, but on the other hand, this only served as the last marker before she took the final stretch of her journey towards her destiny. It gave her a very lonely and empty feeling, to say the least, and it was only by contemplating her prospects of revenge that kept her going, kept her putting one foot in front of the other.

No longer giving into screaming and kicking, Ilya lay quiet on the examination table as Acht made his incision inside her left arm, except to wince under her breath.

"The mad cat has tamed himself, has she?" Acht observed musingly.

"There's nothing I can do to change things, Grandfather, so there's no point in fighting," said Ilya calmly. "I've learned that."

"Indeed you have, and already you have far exceeded my expectations, even before the battle has begun." Jubstacheit proceeded to widen the incision in her arm with clamps to get a good look at the Magic Circuits pulsing within. "Yes, I have faith at last…that you will surpass your mother and at last achieve our long-held dream of reaching the Third Magic."

Ilya looked away. It was also pointless to point out how little she cared about the wish of the Einzberns. Equally she cared very little for whatever pride in her Acht seemed to feel as her being just another one of his "creations".

Once again, she had that sense of her father's specter hanging darkly over her, judging her…weighing her worth…and yet…this time…she actually sensed somehow that he was inclining his head in approval. As though the reason all along that he had betrayed her was to see that she became what she was now: a cold, calculating, ruthless slaughterer, a wicked demon in a child's skin. For she knew deep within that killing was as natural to her as breathing, even having only done it twice.

After all, it was said that the Mage Killer himself had had a knack for being able to kill without hesitation from a very young age, and as she was daily reminded, even as she forbade anyone from speaking of it, she carried such genes in her own blood. Really, it seemed inevitable that it would turn out this way. It was almost a twisted warping and corruption of the bond she and her father had once shared, one that had once seemed to be of love, and was now of the spilling of blood and the taking of life.

Ilya didn't know what to think of this as this revelation came to her, so she pushed it out of her mind, committed to her bitterness.

Acht went on making his incisions, and Ilya ground her teeth against the pain, but nothing more, straight through to when he finished. Such was her strength now.

When she sat up at his command, he took her by the chin a moment and met her crimson gaze, and she could tell by the way his icy one looked back at her that hers was impressively steely.

"You will be magnificent, a beacon of light in your purity," he proclaimed, almost in awe. "When the time comes to don the Dress of Heaven, all will bow before your feet, for you will be more than the Einzbern princess. You, Ilyasviel, will be a queen."

Fleetingly, Ilya's mind flashed to the story her father used to tell her about Queen Ilyasviel and her trusty steed Kerry fighting to make a world without sadness.

She curled her tiny hands into fists until the nails dug painfully into her palm. What a stupid dream, even in a fairy tale.

* * *

On the morning of their departure for Japan, Ilya took a rare moment to indulge sentiment and wandered between all of the rooms that had been contained in the very small world of her childhood.

The library.

Her father's office.

Her bedroom.

Her parents' room.

The lake where she'd learned from her father and mother how to ice-skate.

The forest full of walnut trees where she and her father had played their walnut game.

So much of her early life was built here, and though many of her memories had grown fuzzy, some part of her deep inside had remained attached to the lasting feelings those memories had left her with. Moreover, that fact all the more hardened her resolve to exact her vengeance on her father vicariously through his adopted son, for invalidating those feelings with his treachery against her heart.

Ilya paused in her wandering for a moment as she fell into contemplation over how everything she had been working towards since the day she learned of Kiritsugu Emiya's betrayal against her was about to come to fruition. There would be no room for hesitation, but Ilya felt sure that the cold hatred she harbored would do nothing to stop her from carrying out her personal goals. The only thing she really had to worry about was balancing this with what she had to do to in the name of the will of the Einzberns. She'd have to stick to those rules if she wanted to be able to play her own game.

Even so, there was a sense of anticipation inside of her too, that for the first time in her life, not only would she be leaving Einzbern Castle, but she would also be visiting the country of her father's birth. More than that, but—even if it was really an illusion when it came down to it—there would be a kind of freedom in her embarking on this journey. After all, it would just be her, Berserker, Sella, and Leysritt, and a fairly new homunculus, Frauke, strictly created for the purpose of chauffeuring Ilya (a creation Acht had been quite irked to make given its rather dull purpose, and had merely done so out of necessity—it wouldn't do to have the Einzbern princess do her own driving). And she would be in command. Sella would barb her with her usual advice if she happened to disagree with the decisions Ilya might make in the course of the War (and that was highly likely), but it would be Ilya who would always have the final word.

To have that kind of power, even with such artificiality attached to it, would be something Ilya would make the most of. She was, after all, a Master.

As she thought about this, she felt Berserker appear beside her in the snow beneath those ancient walnut trees. This drew her out of her thoughts and she looked up at him, and couldn't help a small smile at the way he looked at her, looked at her with the assurance that he would follow her anywhere, even into Hell itself, and be her shield for as long as he could.

Then she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and was close enough to the castle that she could just make out the faces of Auntie Greta and the rest of the human members of the Einzbern family, perhaps even more sealed away than its homunculi kin. The moment Greta saw her looking, she drew the curtains closed, and that pretty much summed up their relations with her since the day she'd been born. Though Ilya supposed that the human Einzberns might have at first regarded her with fawning curiosity at her birth given her hybrid nature, but clearly that had worn off in time, if that was indeed the case to begin with.

Ilya almost laughed and shook her head, little bothered by such displays of ostracism. It didn't concern her.

"Miss Ilyasviel!"

Ilya and Berserker turned to where they found Sella approaching them over the crest of a snowy hill.

"It's time, madam," she called out. "The car's waiting."

"Can I drive?" Ilya asked, in a rare moment of childlikeness.

Sella made a face like she'd just tasted something unpleasant. "I think it that would be unwise, madam. Let Frauke do it, it _is_ her sole task after all. In any case, you need to prepare your mind for your mission ahead."

"Fine, fine." Ilya waved a dismissive hand, in no mood to argue, or admit that Sella was probably right. "Come on, Berserker."

Berserker nodded and dissipated into Spirit Form. Of course, Ilya still felt his presence beside her as they made their way through the snow towards the Mercedes-Benz 300SL.

The branches of the frozen trees glittered with silver ice overhead. Ilya looked up at them one last time, and as she did so, something in her mind echoed to her of another departure in this same grove of walnut trees in the Einzbern Forest, words she had not thought of in years:

 _"_ _Can you wait for me, Ilya? Even if you're lonely, can you last until Daddy comes home?"_

 _"_ _Mm-hm!"_

 _"_ _Good. Then I promise you: Daddy won't make you wait. He'll be home…before you know it."_

She suffered a momentary pang at such an echo of tenderness in her mind, looking back on how she had not even thought to grieve at that goodbye back then. No, the grief had not come until later, when she had come to realize the finality that had lain in wait underneath those words. As gentle as it had been, it had still all been nothing but a lie.

Now it was her turn to leave this place forever. But she would pay Kiritsugu back for all he had done to her, and offer it as one last tribute to her mother.

She who would become the Einzbern's White Holy Grail.

* * *

In spite of everything, as Ilya watched the country of Japan open up beneath her and grow bigger and closer as they made their descent on the private jet, she couldn't help a youthful eagerness. And when they took the Mercedes-Benz 300SL through the countryside all the way to the outskirts of Fuyuki, where the Einzberns' castle there lay dormant, she peered out of the window at all the passing scenery along the way, unable to help herself being enchanted.

Even though it was winter here, there was no snow! To think that there were places that could be cold but be without snow. True, it was regrettable that she would not live to see this place change its seasons into spring and summer—seasons she had only seen pictures of in books and footage of in movies and documentaries—she could still cling to this new experience of a world without snow, a world that still held some green even as the dead leaves of autumn lingered into the winter months.

And sunlight in a clear blue sky! Warmer even here than in Germany.

She even caught a glimpse here and there of what might have been those "Japanese mansions" her mother had always talked so animatedly about. But the glimpses were so fleeting, and she would only, at most, catch sight of a roof corner, or a porch where the house's sliding paper doors opened up to a garden. Even so, her imagination raced and pulsed.

But then they arrived at Einzbern Castle, and Ilya, for a brief time, forgot how awestruck she was to be in a foreign country for the first time, and instead felt awestruck to have arrived at a dwelling once inhabited by her mother in the mere days before her death. It made her step across the threshold—Sella, Leysritt, and Frauke carrying her things—with a kind of reverence, and she sought to inspect the entirety of the place from top to bottom, removing her coat, hat, and mittens and laying them aside in the huge foyer.

She wandered through long, gold-gilt hallways, her fingers passing over little touches in the plaster that told her that there had been repairs done in certain places. She surmised that in previous Wars, there had likely been duels fought here as much as anywhere on the battleground of Fuyuki City, duels which had wrecked the beautiful and ornate interiors of this castle.

She also came across many different bedrooms, and in one she felt a strange shiver that gave her this certainty that this was the one her mother might have chosen to sleep in whenever she'd gotten the chance to rest during the last War. It was a small room, with a canopy bed and a cozy fireplace and a little writing table. It was the homiest of all of the bedrooms. It felt right. So she chose this one for her own, just so she could crawl into the same bed as her mother had, the way she used to crawl into her parents' old bed in Germany. She made a mental note to have her personal items brought up to this room when she had the opportunity.

She also came across a large room with a long table in it, and here she found more indications of the walls being repaired, and even an indentation in the carpet that made a perfect circle in the floor, as though the floor had been carved open.

Finally she made her way to where battlements opened up to the central courtyard garden, which had been planted with fresh flowers.

Flowers.

She remembered how much her mother had talked about being able to see flowers for herself, more than the one rose she and her father had found growing in the Einzbern snow once. She remembered how sometimes her father would express the kind of fervor he would only express in front of his wife and daughter, telling how much he wanted to show her those flowers.

There were lilies and roses below, and irises too, and so much green.

Ilya surveyed them from above, having found a brick jutting out that she could stand on in order to see over the battlement. As she did, she had this incredibly sad feeling wash over her, and she couldn't think why. It was almost desperate, like a plea, a cry of defiance against cruel fate. And before she knew it, her throat grew tight and she had tears welling up in her eyes.

 _Why?_

 _Mommy…Daddy…._

Why did she feel like she could feel the both of them standing here? Why did it make her feel so sad and lost?

But then she suddenly felt Berserker's presence, as it had found its way to her side, and he materialized.

"Oh, Berserker. There you are." Ilya wiped away at her tears with the insides of her wrists.

Berserker made a small noise deep in his throat as he looked down at her, one that to Ilya clearly said, "You can't fool me into thinking you weren't crying. But it's okay. I won't tell anyone. Everything will be all right."

And Ilya had to crack a smile, if only so Berserker wouldn't be so worried about her. That and somehow he always managed to make her feel better when she got bad like this, falling into sadness and weakness. "You're right. I know it will." She looked out over the garden again, and then beyond, over the tops of the whole castle, where Fuyuki City lay waiting. Once again she found that eagerness inside her, but this time it was darkened by her desire to seek out the boy called Shirou Emiya.

She waggled her fingers on the battlements a moment, her mind starting to churn, her heart already hardened back into splintery, jagged ice.

The new battle for the Holy Grail would begin very soon. She felt it vibrate within her very veins, crackling in her Magic Circuits.

And Shirou Emiya was out there. Whether he was dragged into the battle or not, to Ilya he would be a sitting duck, the poor fool.

She licked her lips, pondering the nature of the relationship between her and this boy she had yet to meet, but couldn't wait to. They were both bound by Kiritsugu Emiya, what he had been to them, she knew that without having to read into it further.

And then she recalled one of the many Japanese terms one used to refer to one's brother.

This term suggested closeness, in terms of a sibling to his or her older brother, and though technically Ilya was older, Shirou had grown much taller than her, while she had remained so small in this body that would never properly grow.

Not that that mattered.

Then she also remembered the double-entendre of that term for one's brother, that it could mean that as well as it could mean a child simply calling someone older "mister". Shirou, a Japanese native, would be aware of this double-meaning, and no doubt draw a false conclusion if she were to refer to him as such upon their first meeting.

She could taste the word so deliciously on her tongue as she contemplated this.

" _Onii-chan_ …."

Ilya felt her smile turn rather feral, her heart hammering harder in her chest.

"Come on. I'm in the mood for a game of seek-and-find. Shall we find out where our dear _onii-chan_ spends his time?"

Berserker nodded, unquestioning.

"Good." Ilya hopped down from the battlements and withdrew into the castle, Berserker following her back in Spirit Form.

* * *

After having observed Shirou go through the motions of a typical weekday for him as a Japanese teenager through the remote-viewing crystal ball for weeks on end before even coming here, Ilya had constructed a very good map in her head of where she needed to go to intercept the young man. So the following day, while Sella and Leysritt were preoccupied with the fluffery of making her tea, Ilya donned her hat, coat, and boots and snuck out with Berserker into the woods that surrounded Einzbern Castle.

Together they picked their way into the city, making for a road into the area known as Miyama Town where Ilya knew Shirou had to pass along in order to get home from school every day. With it being winter, the days were getting dark at a much earlier hour. Still, Shirou Emiya seemed to feel warm enough just wearing a scarf with his school uniform, as he walked alone with his bag tucked under his arm and his hands in his trouser pockets.

Ilya spotted him like this from where she watched from a cluster of nearby trees. Her red eyes followed him so intently she was more than a little pleased with herself when it seemed he actually seemed to feel himself being watched, as he paused in the middle of that curving, upward road and looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in a confused frown.

Berserker, hidden in Spirit Form beside her, gave off a wave of the kind of anticipation felt before making a kill. Ilya had learned of that feeling the day she had killed Mieke, and then later when she'd slain Elke.

She held up a hand. "Wait. Not yet."

And then she sensed something else, something from Shirou Emiya, as the wind picked up and caught his red hair. Maybe it was in the way the light from the streetlamp refracted off his golden-brown eyes, but it was the faintest flicker of…mana. It filtered inside her as she examined it, and realized that at this very moment…

…the Grail itself had its sights set on this boy. Due in part to some lingering residual connection he appeared to have to a Servant, a Catalyst perhaps so powerful that he needn't even be conscious of its presence in order to summon it.

So…he would be…the Seventh Master.

All the others, she knew, had been chosen: Rin Tohsaka, representing the Tohsakas, naturally, had been the most recent entry. But then there was also that son of the failed Matou family, formerly the Makiri, Shinji. Even so, those two were practically givens, considering. The other three, she could indeed sense that the Servants had made their pacts with Masters in some form or another, which left Shirou as the Seventh and remaining.

But those others didn't matter to Ilya right now.

No, her mind was filled at the moment with how perfect this was that this boy would indeed be dragged into this battle-to-the-death. More than that, but it seemed he really had no clue as to what fate already had in store for him concerning this.

At last, after what felt like a long time, Shirou faced ahead again and continued making his way up the road into Miyama Town, and Ilya withdrew into the shadows, intent on returning the following evening.

* * *

"Where have you _been_ Miss?!" Sella practically shrieked, her hands clenched into fists as Ilya very nonchalantly made her return to Einzbern Castle. "You can't just be sneaking off like that! What if something had happened?"

Ilya raised an eyebrow at her. "What, you think I can really be safe anywhere when there's a War going on already?"

Sella folded her arms, huffing. "There's no need for you to take unnecessary risks, for precisely that fact."

Ilya set her hands on her hips. "I am the Einzbern Princess, and the lady of this castle. I should at least be allowed to conduct myself how I please. Isn't it my role as a Master to devise strategies for the battle before me?"

Leysritt, standing patiently to the side, blinked in her naïve way at Sella when Sella failed to come up with a comeback, only able to give Ilya her usual scowl of disapproval.

"There's always going to be risks in War," Ilya said seriously. "You're an idiot to think that I have any chance of winning if I stay locked up in some ivory tower."

"Mistress!" Sella scolded, but unfortunately there was nothing else she could think to say.

"I see I've made my point." Ilya tossed back her silver hair rather haughtily as she pushed passed her maids. "I'm going to bed. I'll be going out again tomorrow. I'm being generous and warning you about it in advance. Leysritt, could you run a hot bath for me? I'd like a soak before turning in."

"Yes…of course…Miss…Ilyasviel," Leysritt said in her usual halting manner. It seemed she would never get the hang of human speech.

She followed Ilya up the stairs at a brisk pace though, leaving Sella fuming in the foyer.

* * *

The following evening found Ilya at the same spot as the one before, but this time, she stepped out onto the road at the crest of the hill as Shirou made his usual way home, wearing that same scarf and school uniform and carrying that same bag under his arm, hands in his trouser pockets again.

There was no holding back the smile that spread across her face as she spotted him coming her way, and she unassumingly stepped forward, catching him completely unawares as the two of them passed each other. Once he was within earshot, she spoke in a low, sing-song voice:

"You better summon yours soon, or you're gonna die… _onii-chan_."

His footsteps halted behind her as she felt him gasp in surprise and shock at being addressed so by a little girl he had never met in his life. Before he had the chance to turn around and get a good look at her though, she slid back into the trees along the road and melted into the shadows, peering back out at him with her red, red eyes. She savored that dumbstruck look on his young, wide-eyed face whose simplicity reminded her of Leysritt, as he looked around for the passing child that had spoken so strangely to him only to disappear as if she were a ghost.

Yet it wasn't without a little bit of fear underneath too.

 _Yes, Shirou. You should be afraid. You should be very afraid. Because I'm coming for you, and I will show you no mercy._

Now she would wait to run him down, like a wolf cornering a frightened rabbit, chipping away at his spirit, tormenting him until he knew nothing but pain and insanity, fighting for the answers she sought until she had squeezed everything she could out of him.

Only when she had him begging for death would she give him death, and when she did, she would look into his eyes and say, "Can you see me, Kiritsugu? Can you me killing him? I hope you can…and I hope that you feel every single cut I make into his flesh and bones."


End file.
